The Coming Dawn
by Vestal Harlot
Summary: Hermione's unusual dreams lead to an equally unusual and horrifying reality, a reality that forces her to leave the world she knew behind. Sent to the past, Hermione will rewrite the tales of time, though in a way no one would have expected.
1. Her Life as Sunshine

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_A/N: A very special thanks to my beta, Kate. _

_Warning: This story requires patience to read, it takes a while to build up to the Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger pairing. _

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**Chapter One  
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**Her Life As Sunshine**

_She was sunlight_.

Hermione was musing to herself, pondering that very line over and over again. Was she?

She was sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Harry and Ron, who were busy playing a destructive game of wizard chess. The mood was morose after Harry's deed a few weeks ago; aiming to save Albus Dumbledore's life, he had killed Severus Snape. Killing, never easy, had changed Harry. His conscience was eating at him, and this in turn made him brood on the subject Voldemort; if killing was so easy, but had so hard consequences, could he do it again? Hermione knew there would be many a night when Harry would lie awake wondering if he could do this, and if that night could have been different, if Severus Snape could have been saved.

She was currently staring out of the window, and the weather seemed to reflect the mood of the world around her, sad and gloomy. Hermione, though, was determined not to let the tragedy of killing affect her.

Such was the life of Gryffindor princess and first class virgin Hermione Granger; none could come close to touching such light without getting burned. No tragedy could snuff out her light. Hermione was not only the epitome of innocence, but also the zenith of intelligence for her age. None could play mind games with her and expect coming out the winner.

This was how the world viewed Hermione Granger. For the most part they were probably correct.

_Bet everyone know__s I've never even been snogged before_, Hermione thought, a little hostile at the thought of her untainted chastity.  
_  
_She was indeed a virgin, everyone knew that. And she had her suspicions, as expressed in past thoughts, that some were aware of her 'never-really-been-kissed' stature. Hermione had only ever had one boyfriend, Victor Krum. They had bonded over knowledge and mutual feelings about fame. However, she had never really harboured any romantic feelings for him, and had yet to discover why _he,_ two years her senior, had been enchanted with her. She was nothing spectacular to look at, but that hadn't changed the truth that he had been infatuated with her.

She had been flattered, immensely so, but nervous because she knew she did not return his affection. So when Harry had come out of that lake, right after Victor had confessed his true feelings for her, looking like a survivor of some terribly accident, she had paid him a bit more attention than she normally would have.

Krum though, bless him, seemed to understand. At the end of that terrible year, after ushering her away from her knights in not-so-shining robes, he had told her that he would be content to remain her friend even if she didn't share his true feelings.

Feeling slightly guilty at her lack of attraction, but delighted at the prospect of remaining his friend, she had let him kiss her hand, blushing deeply.

Hermione sighed; she was definitely not the promiscuous type, and had no intents on having sex with someone just to get over her pureness. When the right guy came along, and she had her doubts that it would ever happen, she would give her virginity to him. She wanted someone who would be her equal in everything, someone whose passion for her would only be rivalled by love of knowledge and riddles. Someone who desired her for being her, and whom she desired in return.

"What's that Hermione?" the slightly confused voice of Harry Potter asked.

She turned from the cloudy and desolate sky she had been staring at moments before, and focused her attention on the Boy Who Lived.

His voice had betrayed nothing of this true melancholic disposition. His gorgeous eyes, once full of life, seemed jaded and vengeful, and there was nothing similar to him from the happy boy she had met the first day of school. Life and death had done this to him, so much death and destruction, but there was no hopelessness there. Instead, Hermione felt a moment of pity for those who would face the wrath of Harry Potter.

"Nothing. Just thinking," Hermione replied, not losing eye contact.

"When aren't you, Hermione?" Ron jested, breaking the tension in the room.

Hermione sent him a small smile, and Harry's eyes light up for a fraction on a second. But then it was gone, and things were more awkward than before.

Shifting slightly in his seat, Ron asked, "Are you two coming over this summer then?"

Harry turned his intense gaze to Ron, and nodded slightly.

"After I come of age, I'll be there. You will too, won't you Hermione?"

Hermione shuffled slightly, taking an uneasy seat next to Ron.

"Maybe. My parents really want to me to spend the summer with them, as it's my last time to spend time with them before I leave."

She refused to make eye contact with Harry through this sentence, knowing what was on his mind. Then Ron, being tactless as ever, voiced the silent question.

"You have to be there Hermione! We'll need all the help we can get!" Hermione winced at the loudness of his voice, before replying,

"I'll try to, really, I want to help the Order as much as possible, but my family is important to me as well. Give it a rest, all right?"

The statement was greeted with silence, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

_Do they think I don't want to help them? How could they think that, after all we have been through_

Another stray, unwanted thought came to the surface of Hermione's mind, but it planted it's seed of doubt before Hermione banished it;

_You don't want the horcruxes to be destroyed. Not yet, anyway. You want to see how they work, and what Lord Voldemort had to do to create them. _

Hermione was not stupid enough to be in denial about the inevitable, but she could damn well repress it.

_Of course I'll __help them find and destroy the Horcruxes. They need my help, and what good would be gained from further researching how they work, as long as we can destroy them?_

Satisfied with that conclusion, Hermione closed her eyes, and let slept away the last hours till they reached King's Cross Station.

But before she fell asleep, her brain considered one last thing.

_Do you care if it's good or not?_

And with that thought, sleep claimed her.


	2. Dreaming of the Night

_Disclaimer-All belongs to J.K. Rowling. Except the plot, that belongs to me. :) _

_A/N: Hope you enjoy the story, and PLEASE don't forget to review. Oh and there are probably a few spelling errors, because I didn't have a beta when I wrote this, and she's currently working on a later chapter.  
_

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**Chapter Two **

**Dreaming of the Night**

She was alone in shadow. A girl dressed in long black robes that obscured her face strode along an empty alleyway; almost completely shroud in darkness except for the moon that shown over the decrepit buildings and into her path. This still did nothing to distill the darkness of night. It was anyone's guess how the women could move so lithely when it was apparent she could hardly see an inch in front of her. This spectre seemed to walk for hours and hours along that route, twisting and turning through the dilapidated scenery. After what seemed an age, she found herself in front of a lake, glistening eerily in the moonlight, surrounded by fog.

The slender spectre paused in front of the lake, transfixed by the cool ripples that danced across the otherwise serene surface. It was though she was under a spell, she could not turn away. Such was the state of her enchantment; she did not even register the possibilities of what might be approaching when she heard a rustling of leaves, and barely audible footsteps coming from the haze of the fog.

Emerging from the dense fog, came Hermione clad in her school uniform, looking slightly out of place in such a nocturnal setting. This was no place for the Queen of innocents. Hermione, still slightly concealed in the fog, saw the solitary figure of the young women standing near the water's edge, apparently enraptured by the way the water moved. Hermione decided to approach whatever being had intruded upon this otherwise desolate and serene scene.

Treading cautiously closer to the women, Hermione studied everything about her that she could by the light of the moon. She could not see her face, but judging by her svelte body and graceful posture, Hermione deduced that the women must be breathtaking. She walked at a steady pace until she stood to the right of the regal, somewhat taller woman.

It was then when the spectre seemed to acknowledge her presence. Not bothering to move her eyes from the lake, she simply inclined her head slightly to her right, and stated,

"You do not belong here."

Hermione shivered involuntarily at the sound that came from the spectre. It was as though she did not speak English, rather formulated sounds to get her point across. The delivery was also unnatural, the speaker had a voice as quiet as a whisper, and as preternatural as though she was talking to an angel. Or possibly the devil.

She did however, understood the statement, unlike the intonation, made by this specter of darkness.

"I know. I feel as though I am lost, and don't know how to return." Hermione replied; try as she might, her Gryffindor courage failing to keep the tremor out of her voice.

The spectre chuckled, though it was not at all amusing to Hermione. The laugh seemed not to come out of humor, but of cold sadness and pity. It was as though with a single noise she could have seen into Hermione's future.

"You have no idea how right you are." When Hermione looked at the spectre with a questioning and slightly fearful look, the spectre once again gave off that ominous laugh, but his time bothering to turn to look at Hermione.

The hairs on Hermione's neck went rigid at the piercing look the spectre was giving her. Hermione was almost positive that she would have fled if she had seen the women's eyes, which were still concealed beneath her hood.

"Who are you?" The terror in her voice no longer being repressed by pride, and Hermione was edging away from the specter, who now gave her the feeling that she was staring at her more intently than before.

The spectre raised her head ever so slightly, enough so Hermione could make out flawless white teeth surrounded by full lips that were curled in a bitter smirk.

"Not time to tell yet. But soon enough, virtuous one, you shall understand. And when you understand, you will belong here." With that comment, the spectre turned back towards the lake, and was once again immersed in the vibrations on the water, even, though there was still no wind.

Hermione couldn't decide if she was pleased or not with this answer. A large part of her was relived to be rid of the stare of the unearthly phantom, while the other part of her, the part of her that reveled in knowledge, was pining to understand what this ethereal creature was, and what her meaning was.

"Well then, do you have any idea how I can get back then?" She was unable to get away with this statement without being slightly miffed, but something told her, as much as she feared her, the spectre would not harm her.

The being in question said nothing but rather extended an elegant hand covered in a glove made of black lace. Hermione looked at the spectre's hand and then at her face, which had remained immobile and concentrated on the lake. Finally, Hermione took the woman's hand with her own, and was surprised when a jolt of recognition jolted through her entire being, and looked quickly at the spectre. Hermione's limited experience with this woman told her that she was probably had a mischievous grin upon it.

As Hermione opened her mouth to speak, she found herself being shaken awake by a concerned Ron.

"Thank Merlin you're awake. Me an' Harry have been trying to wake you up for five minutes. We're at Kings Cross; you've been asleep for the last three hours." Pleased that she was awake, he turned away from her to recover her trunk from the rack opposite of her sitting position.

A very drowsy Hermione shook her head, and observed her surroundings. Harry was waiting patiently by the compartment door, trunk in hand, smiling slightly at her tiredness.

"Nice sleep then Hermione?" He said in a cheeky voice that even in Hermione's tired state was glad to hear. Any step to making Harry happy, even at her expense, was worth it. For now, she decided to not think about her strange dream.

Hermione sent him a mock scathing look and grabbed her trunk that Ron had fetched for her. After they all had their trunks, they made their way out to platform 9¾, and to their waiting families.

After biding adieu to her best friends, assuring them she would aid them with whatever was necessary for the Order to gain the upper hand in the fight against Voldemort, Hermione's still sleep filled eyes followed her parents to their car.

Once buckling her safety belt, Hermione leaned against the plush leather seat of her parent's new Honda, allowing her mind to wander back to her bizarre and oddly realistic dream.

_Hermione, you are suffering form sleep deprivation, silly girl. You've become overtired worrying about Harry's well-being. Some summer relaxation should do him good. Oh that's right, no time for nonsense like THAT. Must seek and destroy Horcruxes. Honestly, to get over killing Severus he should take a break from doing exactly what's troubling him now. Destroying Voldemort won't give you back your innocence._

Hermione, though opposed to killing, was not at all bothered by the passing of Severus.

_This is war. Sacrifices have to be made. We got rid of a manipulative enemy, and still have our most powerful ally, Dumbledore. We should be celebrating._

If the spectre were present, she most likely would have been chuckling.


	3. An Appallingly Good Read

_Disclaimer- Sadly, all these characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I just own the plot._

_A/N: I am starting to get more reviews, this is good. Thank you._

_I am dedicating this chapter to the amazing Kate, who is my beta, and of course all my wonderful reviewers, especially hpfanf, who gave me a few pointers on how to improve my story, and made this fiction one of your favorites. You people have once again convinced me to continue writing this fic, and continue it I will._

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**Chapter Three **

**An Appallingly Good Read**

Hermione sat in quiet contemplation during the rest of the way home, barely listening to her parents' incessant prattle about how glad they were that she was home for the holidays and all the exciting things they planned to do with her before she left home for good.

_And people wonder why I prefer the company of books … they don't talk,_ Hermione thought sourly, annoyed with the constant chatting. It was fair to say that when Hermione was sleepy, she got a little cranky.

"You're going to do such great things, Hermione. Our little girl is going to do such great things for the world. Aren't you sweetie?" Hermione's mother questioned fondly.

"You bet Mum, great things," Hermione said absentmindedly, staring out the window. As much as she adored her parents, she really was quite tired, and in no mood to chat.

"Any idea what my little girl's going to do with her life once she turns eighteen this September? After all, you'll legally be a woman then," Hermione's dad now asked her, though thankfully, he didn't avert his eyes from the road.

"Actually," Hermione said, "last year when I turned seventeen, I became of age in my world."

She turned away from the window, realizing her statement was true, and all the wonderful implications it came with. She shook her head a little, determined to drive away her drowsiness and irritation for a while. She was in a good mood now.

"You will still spend the summer with us though, won't you? Even though you are officially an adult?" Hermione's mother asked with a slight bit of agitation in her voice.

"Of course Mum and Dad, though I figure next summer I should look into buying a flat. As much as I love you both, I don't think I could stand living with you two dentists forever," Hermione replied, a small smile coming across her face.

"Still as sassy as I remember. At least that will never change."

Her dad was grinning, and Hermione's mother turned her head to her husband with a loving look in her hazel eyes, and took one of his hands with hers.

Hermione's good mood evaporated at this display of love in front of her. Without meaning to, it seemed Hermione's parents mocked her for not having a significant other. She frowned, and turned her face back to the window; once again interested at the countryside she saw flashing before her, still plagued by thoughts of the mysterious woman from her dream, and now her own inadequacy. These thoughts seemed to wind together after a while, and Hermione found herself jealous and wishing that she had the spectre's natural poise and probable beauty.

When Hermione realized that she was envious of a figment of her imagination, she promptly scolded herself for her own stupidity.

The rest of the car ride went on in a comfortable silence, the only sound that disturbed the calm was the low volume of the stereo, playing soothing melodies. It was at dusk when they finally arrived back at the Grangers' modest home of two floors. The minute the car came to a halt Hermione bounded out of it, barely remembering to 'accio' her trunk along with her.

She was halfway up the carpeted staircase when she heard her mother ask from the bottom of the stairs, "Hermione dear, what's the rush to escape your parents so soon?"

"Not escaping mother, just rather…well, exhausted," Hermione replied, smiling weakly, gesturing with her wandless hand towards her bedroom door. Hermione's mum gave a dramatic sigh and smiled lightly.

"I figured. You didn't mention anything about that strange school of yours, or this Ron that you mentioned to me, oh, every owl you sent."

She had a knowing twinkle in her eye, and Hermione was surprised to find herself rushing to extinguish it.

"Mother dearest, I assure you there is _nothing _going on between Ronald and myself."

Though she had sad this many times to her mother, there had always been a quiet longing whenever she had admitted it. But no longer. Hermione found herself lost in thought, wondering when her crush on Ron had dissipated.

"Love? You okay?"

Hermione fell out of her reverie at the inquiring tone her mother gave her.

"Oh! I'm fine. I was just miles away. Tired you know…" Hermione once again motioned awkwardly to her room.

"Of course honey. You can go to bed. Love you," her mother said, turning away from Hermione and going to relax in the living room with her husband.

"Love you too!" Hermione called out, trudging up the stairs to her immaculate room. Like her, Hermione's room was well organized. There were no frivolous posters or girly decorations in her room, in fact, it looked like a hotel room, though slightly larger and more personal. Not to mention innumerable amounts of books and rolls of parchment.

Hermione closed the door and deposited her trunk at the foot of her bed, stretching her weary limbs. While doing this, she caught sight of herself in the full length mirror. The girl in the reflection paused and looked with slight curiosity at her physical self. Hermione made her way over to the mirror, and like always, was not impressed by what she saw.

She was short, average at best at 5'5" with a slender figure. Most of her classmates were considerably taller than her, and she had always resented the fact that she had inherited her mother's short gene, unlike her father's taller one. Her dark hair was bushy and wild, and it was nearly impossible to tame. That unfortunate role in the game of genetics angered Hermione most in particular, because everyone else in her family had lovely curls, not fierce bushiness.

_Of course everyone but me. Forever the black sheep, Hermione. _

Hermione touched the mirror, examining her finer facial features. She was plain, and would only go as far to call herself pretty on a few occasions. Her eyes were easily her best feature; they were large and expressive, and a unique shade of chocolate.

She heard a knock on her door, and quickly shuffled away from the mirror, a little embarrassed that she had been looking at her appearance. If she had been any other girl, the pruning of oneself was common practice, but not for Hermione.

_What have I really got to fuss over anyway? Mirrors are a waste of time; don't know why I even bother keeping one in my room._

As she opened her bedroom door, she was a little surprised to see her dad carrying what looked like a fairly heavy box covered in what seemed to be last-minute wrapping. Her father smiled sheepishly at her as he handed her the badly wrapped gift.

"Hermione, your mother and I got you a coming home present. We, um, well…sort of forgot about it." He nodded to her messily wrapped gift.

"That's okay, dad. It's the thought that counts, you know." She grinned at her father, giving him a no armed hug, as both her hands were full. Hermione then kicked her door shut, and dropped her mangled looking gift on her comforter.

Eager as to what lay inside; Hermione kneeled on her bed and tore off the wrapping paper, and with a quick 'diffendio', the box lay dismantled on the floor. The contents of her gift were…

_Books! And look what they're about__! Dragons, fairies, werewolves, and other creatures of magic, all decorated with pink glitter. My parents really need a lesson on what it's really like to be a witch. Look at this one: 'Abracadabra Hocus Pocus-how to make people bow to your every whim, party princess style!' Do they think I'm three?_

Hermione gave a very un-lady like snort and had to cover her mouth to conceal what would have been near screaming mirth. Indeed, she started rolling on her bed, nearly having a seizure from the fit of laughter. She actually fell out of her bed, and landed with a hard _thunk _on the ground.

"Merlin that hurt..." an extremely disgruntled Hermione muttered to herself. When she opened her eyes a moment later, her vision caught sight of a large book that was hidden under her bed.

_Must be another 'party princess' book that fell off the bed when I opened my present…_

Giggling to herself, Hermione crawled over to the book that would have been forgotten had it not been for her fall. She looked at the book, and to her amazement, it was neither pink nor sparkly. It looked, in fact, like a book she might have read of her own free will.

Now a little intrigued, Hermione looked at the title. It read as such: _Lore and Fact About the Vampyre. _When glancing at the author, she was startled to discover that it was by acclaimed novelist , a wizard.

_What in the world…How did they get this? They only__ ever venture into Diagon Alley with me, and they never leave my side._

She stared at the book for thirty solid seconds, before snapping out of her trance, and throwing the book on her bed. She sped over to her dresser, threw off all her clothes onto the floor, and jumped into a pair of cotton pants and an oversized white T-shirt. Such was the state of her excitement that she did not even fold her dirty clothes and put them into her laundry bin, rather leaving them in a cluttered mess on the ground.

Hermione bounded back to her bed, flipping the light switch off before leaping underneath the covers, hurriedly pushing off all the 'Party Princess' books. When her bed was finally cleared, Hermione curled up into her downy comforter, the _Vampyre _book in hand.

With a barely audible 'Lumos', she was finally able to give her full attention to the book in her lap. The cover was plain, save for the extravagantly written title itself. Opening the book, hands trembling with excitement, she began to read the first page.

_Vampyre, now more commonly called Vampires, are one of the most enigmatic and sensual creatures in existence. Little true knowledge is known about the most mysterious of creatures, apart from common folklore. Most of what you know about Vampires is probably fed off utter rubbish, like what that squib Bram Stoker wrote about.__Though his work, the muggles call it 'Dracula' I believe, is nonsense, it does have a basis in fact._

_The stake through the heart is indeed excruciatingly painful for a vampire, as I have been told by one, but will not kill them. (Obviously.) However, Stoker was correct when he claimed that sunlight destroys all Vampires. It is the only sure way of dealing their demise. Now, onto that ridiculous mirror trick. Completely ludicrous. _

_Most believe that Vampires have no reflection. This is untrue, as is the fact they are spawn of Sat__an, but one cannot help but question how this myth came about. If they are indeed the embodiment of the seven sins, why deny them vanity? To this no one is certain.)_

She quickly became engrossed in the book, though her tiredness was beginning to make her eyes droop. Hermione skimmed over a part mentioning Vampire assassins. As she was nearly asleep now, all she caught was _have a tattoo _and _only deal with powerful wizards. _Hermione resolved only one more page, and when she turned the last page for the night, her jaw literally dropped.

Illustrated to the point of nearly looking like a ghastly picture, was a drawing of a massive orgy. Naked limbs were intertwined everywhere, and such was the depth of the artwork, Hermione saw the males thrust into the females with all their strength, whose heads in turn were thrown back in infinite ecstasy. Some of the creatures of lust in the picture seemed to be biting each other as they reached their climax simultaneously, and it seemed that the biting was bringing them to an even more satisfied orgasm.

Hermione blushed to a deep shade of magenta, slammed the book shut, and promptly dropped the explicit book to her nightstand. _This book is definitely _not _for shy little virgins who have never been kissed! _

Still red from embarrassment, the Gryffindor tucked herself firmly into bed.

_Who would have thought that the humble dentists would gift their daughter with…with... that horrid…shameful…indecent…brill__iant ... completely marvellous book to their daughter? Wonder if the rest of the book is that great …only one way to find out…_

And with that final resolve to read her naughty but fascinating book, the sleep Hermione had kept at bay finally came over her.

That night, a little after midnight, Hermione had a most peculiar dream.

The spectre found herself wandering by the banks of the lake, alone, as was her custom. She rarely had contact with anyone these days, except that girl, Hermione. The spectre let loose a sad smile at the recent memory of that sweet, innocent, shy but brave young woman. Such zest for life that one had, such a bright ray of sunshine she was. How refreshing from the world of shadow had she been, and the spectre had been here for a long time. How long? No one, not even she knew. What she did know, however, was that nothing lasts forever, nothing stays the same. Change was inevitable, and the more one change the closer one comes to one's own demise. This made the spectre eyes glisten with something that they hadn't held in a while, tears. She alone knew what was to come for the innocent Hermione, and it was indeed a fate she was undeserving of.

A disturbance in the air attracted the spectre's attention, and she turned her hooded face to the direction of the noise. Some might wonder how the spectre saw with that hood in her eyes, but the truth was, the spectre found her eyes to be decorative, not useful. She relied on noise and smell to manoeuvre around. When one spends a lifetime in darkness, all starts to look the same, and eyes become almost useless.

The air, it smelled of light. _Ahh… so the innocent has returned. But so soon?_ When the spectre heard the frustrated pads of delicate feet, she knew that Hermione was near. Rather then approach her, the spectre turned to her lake. It was the only thing that she could watch forever, and never lose interest. The lake, to the spectre, was unique because even though it was always rippling from the wind and undulating in different directions, it remained the same. The lake would not change.

Sunshine was standing next to her again. Hermione, as lovely as a sound it was to make, didn't suit her. Sunshine did, so that's what the spectre would call her.

"What is this place? Why is this the second time I've come here in a dream, when everyone knows dreams mean nothing?"

Sunshine was angry, but not at the spectre, rather at herself. How she loved to be the one in power and have all the answers, it must be quite irritating to suddenly be in a world without logic.

Hermione was indeed riled up. When she had fallen asleep, she had dreamt that she was at a carnival with her parents when she was a child. Being an inquisitive child, she had wanted to go into the Gypsy's tent to have her fortune read. Dashing ahead of her parents, screaming with joy, she had run into the fortune teller's tent, only to find it full of fog. As Hermione the child had explored that strange room, she had morphed into the young women she was, and found herself in front of that eerie lake again.

"You do not belong here." The spectre informed Sunshine for the second time, though more for her own amusement this time. It was so fun to anger her sweet little Sunshine.

"I _know _that." Hermione snapped at the spectre, frustrated now because she felt perfectly awake and really wanted to be reading a certain book, not talking with a beautiful otherworldly being. And she informed the spectre so.

"I would rather be curled up in bed right now, enjoying a new book my parents got me." Just like in reality, Hermione was unable to keep the red tinge form appearing on her cheeks.

The spectre felt the sudden warmness in the air, and turned her head to examine Sunshine with her otherwise useless eyes. The girl's hair flared out around her and framed her pink cheeks. The spectre thought she looked quite lovely, but who was she to judge? What concerned her was the embarrassed blush that showed on her Sunshine's face.

"What were you reading, Sunshine?" The spectre asked calmly, but concerned all the same.

"This incredibly fascinating book about Vampires. I only read a bit of it before I fell asleep, and it was wonderful. Did you know that Vampires actually have reflections? And that if you're turned all your potential beauty comes out? That's why all Vampire stories feature a character that is highly charismatic and beautiful…"

_Sunshine has a secret_the spectre thought in a sing-song voice. _And I know what it is._ The spectre was an expert on observing human behaviour, and had easily put two and two together. Sunshine had stumbled upon something in that book that both mortified and excited her. What was the one thing that could have that affect on innocence personified?

The spectre sighed in an extremely depressed way. So it had begun. The changing. The transformation of Sunshine into moonlight. So sad. Her Sunshine's hunger for knowledge had always been there, but it had picked up something now that it would unknowingly yearn for until it was appeased. _Nothing does ever stay the same, and you know there is nothing you can do._

"What's wrong?" As rude to the being beside her she had been before, Hermione hadn't meant to offend. There was something that greatly upset her at the thought of the spectre being sad. It was once again as if she knew her…

"Sunshine needs to wake up now and greet the day," the spectre said just as sadly as she felt, noticing the coming dawn from across the lake.

"So what? I can come back again, only to hear you say, 'You don't belong here." Hermione said with a light smile. As convincing a façade of indignation she had put up, the truth was that Hermione had become relaxed in the presence of the spectre, and wanted to get to know her better, to solve the riddle that was the hooded and cloaked woman. She was so bewitching in her isolation, forever alone.

To say Hermione was surprised when the spectre cupped her face and gently stroked her cheeks with gloved hands was an understatement. The spectre's lace clad hands were still cold, but there was that same feeling of familiarity.

"That is true. You don't belong here." The spectre paused to glance at the rays of sun that were slowly creeping their way across the lake, before muttering one last word.

Hermione awoke in a cold sweat in her bed, engulfed in the early morning sunlight, repeating the spectre's final word to her over and over again.

_Yet…_


	4. Cordially Invited

_Disclaimer-I own nothing that you recognize._

_A/N: Enjoy...  
_

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**Chapter Four **

**Cordially Invited**

It was in a distraught manner that Hermione began her day in, still nonplussed about her dream, for it seemed entirely too real to merely be an absurdity.

_It's like it was a genuine vision, the kind that old bat Trelawney always thought she had,_ Hermione scoffed to herself as she brushed her teeth, careful to avoid looking into the sink's mirror. Hermione was always especially careful to avoid her reflection in the morning; sleep did not look good on her.

Truthfully, Hermione initially respected to people who claimed to be seers, having loved having her palm read as a child. Third year, however, had made them all frauds in Hermione's eyes. She had been excited to take the class, eager to see if the art of fortune telling was all she dreamed it was as a young girl. She had left that class severely disappointed, all her bright eyed ideas completely trampled after meeting Sybill Trelawney.

_Your morning has started badly already, Hermione, best not to think about her. It will only make you upset. _But as was the nature of thoughts, they don't go away until you have thoroughly _thought_ about them, and it was a grumbling Hermione that left the bathroom, muttering about ridiculous teachers and how they maintained their jobs.

As Hermione went to change into her clothes, she spotted her vampire book lying on her nightstand. She had forgotten it in lieu of brooding about her strange dreams. Hermione's demeanor immediately changed. Her foul mood evaporating and a grin made its way across her face.

_Hmmm…maybe a bit of light reading will cheer me up,_ Hermione thought to herself as she put on a regular white shirt and shorts. She then proceeded to snuggle into her bed again, propping her pillows up against her headboard for back support.

_Let's see…where was I? Oh yes…Well, best be on to the next page, nothing more to learn from THAT page. Oh, this is interesting. If you become a Vampire, you gain a certain allure, though unlike that of the Veela, it is more subtle. For example, if a true Veela were to walk into the room, all eyes would immediately become obsessed with watching her or him. However, if a vampire where to enter the room, they would most likely attract attention because of their naturally graceful poise; but none would truly be lost to them until you look into their eyes. It is their eyes that hold their true power. If you went to sit next to the vampire, and hold eye contact, you would be astounded by what you saw. Believe me, I know. As I interviewed Sanguini_,_ a_ _most intelligent vampire, I had to avoid looking into his eyes at all times. When he first introduced himself to me, I made the mistake of making eye contact. I was stunned by what I saw. _

_His eyes were midnight blue, with shades of gray in them. The gray clouds that misted across his vision seemed to fill me with strange feelings of loss and uncertainty. When Sanguini finally spoke, it tore me away from his eyes, though I was still slightly disoriented. After fully coming to, he politely explained to me that when you turn into a vampire, the eyes are the only part of your humanity that you truly keep. Time will eventually erase memory of your human life, and your eyes are the sole storyteller of everything you had once been. "No vampire's eyes are the same," he told me, "as we have all been on different journeys and have individual destinies to fulfill." _

When Hermione turned the page again, she was greeted once more by a graphic illustration, though this one was far more tasteful in Hermione's opinion. It was of a pale gorgeous man holding out a rose to a surprised but pleased woman. The next frame contained the pair entwined in the nude by a lake; the women's face a portrait of bliss as the male made love to her, his mouth at her breast. Both of them seemed to be flushed from their vigorous activity, even if the vampire didn't require oxygen.

To Hermione's slight surprise, she did not blush. There was something about seeing lovers, who were with each other because they were truly in love, not for a quick fuck, that made her insides glow with an unfamiliar tingle.

"Hermione, are you up yet?" her mother asked from the other side of the door. "Mark and I have to go to work in a bit, and I want to say goodbye."

"Oh! Yes, I'm up, come in!" Hermione hastily replied, snapping her book shut as she jumped out of bed, and dropping the _Vampyre _book at the side of her bed near her 'Party Princess' books. Even if her parents had gotten her that delightfully sinful book, it didn't mean that they had to know she was enjoying the more, uh, _descriptive _aspects of it.

"Blazing through all your books, huh love?" Hermione's mother smiled as she entered the room, followed by an eager Crookshanks, and closed the door, glancing at the books strewn across the floor.

"Yes, it's not like I've got anything better to do," Hermione replied, a little sharper than usual as she situated herself more comfortably on her bed. Crookshanks immediately jumped onto her lap, and began purring contentedly as she began to stroke him. Her mother seemed not to notice Hermione's rude behavior, and it was with a smile that she sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed, facing her daughter.

"Well," said her mother, "That's what Mark and I got them for. But enough about them for now, I really came up here to find out more about this Ron. Last night I got the impression you don't-"

_Tap Tap Tap_

Hermione and her mother started, both slightly surprised by the sudden noise. After recovering, they then looked curiously around the room, only to discover the source that had interrupted their conversation had been the subject itself. A tiny, over-eager owl had chosen that moment to zealously click its beak against the window. Sensing an escape from the awkward territory her conversation had begun to explore, Hermione pushed Crookshanks off her lap, jumped off her bed and dashed over to open the window. The cat in turn hissed at her, and settled haughtily on her mother's lap. Ron's owl Pig immediately zoomed into the room, hooting incessantly all the way, a roll of parchment tied to his leg.

"Love? Who's that from?" Hermione's mother, though far from being knowledgeable about the Wizarding world's comings and goings, was none the less acquainted with the peculiar way they communicated.

"It's from Ron." Seeing the knowing look in her mother's eyes, she quickly added, "Nothing like that, Mum. I'm pretty sure it's an invitation to a wedding."

"A wedding? Who's?"

"Ron's brother, Bill." Hermione said absentmindedly as she warily observed the way her cat was watching the energetic owl. "He's marrying the part Veela, Fleur, I told you about fourth year."

Pig decided to perch on Hermione's lamp, now hooting happing at the achievement of correctly delivering his message. Hermione slowly approached him, careful not to excite him back into frenzy. She untied the letter tied to his leg, and slowly unfolded it. It was adorned with a fancy red boarder, and written in an elegant hand. Sure enough, she had been right as to the contents.

_You have been cordially invited_

_To the upcoming nuptials of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour_

_To take place on August the first, beginning at noon_

_To be held at the home of Arthur and Molly Weasley_

_Please respond with the news that you will or will not be attending_

As Hermione read over her invitation, her mother Linda's eyes perused her daughter's room. As she stroked a complacent Crookshanks, she once again noted the amount of books on the floor. She placed Crookshanks gently on the bed, much to his displeasure, and went over to organize the untidy pile of her daughter's books. She bent down and smiled to herself as she shifted through the books she had gifted to her daughter. Her eyes caught the title of an unfamiliar book that seemed rather old and large, something about Vampires or the like.

_Just the kind of book my Hermione loves. I wonder who gave it to her; it's such a thoughtful gift._

"Linda! We've got to go! I've got a root canal at nine!" At the sound of Mark's voice, Linda stood up and straightened her outfit out. She turned to Hermione, who had put her letter down.

"We'll talk later, love. Must be off to work." Hermione's mother walked over to her daughter, pecked her on the cheek, and bustled out of the room.

Hermione yelled a goodbye to her parents, before turning her attentions back to the letter and the owl resting on her lamp. She smiled to herself; she'd never been to a wedding before.


	5. The Specious Nature of Wizards

_Disclaimer-I own nothing._

_A/N: As always, thanks to my great beta Kate, And to Crystal Shores, Rock Royalty hpfanf and like-clockwork for adding my story to their favorites.  
_

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**Chapter Five **

**The Specious Nature of Wizards**

The month of July was tedious and uneventful for Hermione Granger, as every other activity she did with her parents failed in comparison to the prospect of finally attending the wedding. The only thing truly worth noting for Hermione was during mid July, the day when she and her mother bought Hermione's dress for the wedding.

Reluctant as she was to indulge in any over-girlish activities, Hermione admitted to herself that she had had a pleasant shopping experience with her mother. At first, she had been tenacious at best to join the overly enthusiastic Linda on a shopping trip, as her mother was notorious for spending all day trips at the mall, but Hermione was both surprised and delighted that they had found a suitable dress within an hour.

_Not just suitable, _Hermione thought to herself as she adjusted her hair into a barrette, _perfect._

When finished fixing her hair, Hermione allowed herself to look into her mirror and do something she didn't often do; look at her reflection without complete distaste. The pale yellow sleeveless dress she had chosen to wear flowed down to a little below her ankles, and fit as Lind said, 'In all the right places', after trying it on a few weeks ago.

Hermione had chosen to leave her unruly hair down, (though she was able to tame it slightly with some Sleekeazy's) but with her long bangs held back with a barrette. Not wanting to have spent hours on something as frivolous as makeup, Hermione had opted to perform a simple charm that enhanced her best features. All it did was darken her lips and cheeks, but Hermione was pleased with the outcome.

_Not to bad…though I'd wager I won't look anywhere near as pretty as Ginny, and no one can compete with Fleur, especially on her wedding day. _Hermione frowned slightly, fiddling with a simple golden ring that she had tied around her neck with a chain of the same color. _ Am I underdressed? Should I use some muggle makeup? Would it look better if-_

The suddenly anxious girl's mind ramblings were cut short by a knocking on her bedroom door.

"Hermione, are you ready yet?" Inquired the voice of her father," It's nearly noon and you'll have to do that teleporting thing soon. Your mother and I want to take pictures!" Indeed, it was a quarter till' twelve, which meant Hermione would soon be apparating to the burrow. Hermione took one last quick glance at herself before opening her door and hastily jostled her parents in.

"Hermione, love, you look beautiful!" Linda exclaimed as she observed her daughter with proudly.

"Thanks mum. Look, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but could we hurry this up a bit?"

Linda frowned slightly, noting how quickly Hermione had brushed off her compliment as though she didn't believe it at all. Did her only child truly regard her appearance with such repugnance? Luckily for the uncomfortable Hermione, Mark and Linda only took a few shots of their daughter, a few of her alone and one each with either parent.

"It'll take a minute for them to develop, se we'll leave the pictures on your bedpost." Mark indicated by pointing to his 'instant'- developing camera. "Have a good time Hermione."

Her father smiled fondly down at her before quickly giving her a hug. As soon as he released her, Linda gathered her daughter up into a motherly embrace, and whispered into Hermione's ears, "Love, I meant it when I said you look beautiful. Never doubt yourself about that. Maybe not everyone can see it now, but one day they will, and I can't wait to see that day."

Hermione blushed slightly, but gave her mother a small smile that showed how grateful she was.

"Have a marvelous time dear!" Hermione's mother said much more loudly, beaming at her husband and daughter, "And don't forget to bring back pictures of you and your friends!"

Hermione gave her parents a look of faux exasperation parents, and was in a considerably better mood when she disappeared from her room with a loud pop.

Though she was quite adept at apparition, Hermione had never enjoyed the feeling of being squeezed through a virtual tube. Fortunately, the act of apparating only lasted a few moments before Hermione felt a warm summer's breeze on her face. She smiled in delight, eyes closed and arms spread wide as she let the comforting rays of the sun engulf her. Hermione inhaled deeply, enjoying all the simple scent of flowers that permeated the fresh air.

With a contented sigh, Hermione opened her eyes to be greeted with quite a lovely scene. She had appirated to what appeared to be the outskirts of the Weasleys' family orchard, which was a magnificent array of pink and white from the bloom of the tree's flowers. There was a path of petals strewn across the ground that were conspicuously placed by someone; so Hermione deduced she should follow the path. Following the trail of petals until the end of the arbor, the young woman found herself in the backyard of the Burrow.

The Weasleys had arranged about 100 folding chairs on either side of the row of sparsely placed petals, which ended at a raised wooden podium that was draped in light silks. When glancing around to admire the beauteous confections everywhere, she noticed such faces as Remus Lupin with a violet-haired Tonks at his side, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. _Pretty much everyone from the order's here. _Hermione thought to herself as she caught a flash of red in her peripheral vision, before being engulfed in a tight hug.

"Hermione! I'm so glad you made it! We thought something might have happened, it's not like you to be anything but early!"

The youngest Weasley released a slightly dazed Hermione, and sent her an exuberant smile. Just as Hermione had predicted, Ginny looked extremely fetching in her silver bridesmaid's gown. Ginny's mood seemed suspiciously bright, and Hermione had a few ideas why. Over the redhead's shoulder she could make out a boy with messy black hair conversing with a few of Fleur's guests.

"Hermione, you look great." Ginny stated sincerely, still grinning infectiously. "Was that why you were late? I know it took me a while to get ready."

"No, my parents wanted to take a few pictures as memorabilia of my first wedding. Did I miss anything interesting?" inquired Hermione, though she doubted it as everyone seemed to be in a carefree mood and there were no signs of a disturbance.

"Only mum completely going nutters about half an hour ago because she couldn't find Great-Auntie Muriel's tiara, spent 15 minutes pillaging the house for it, only to find that she had already given it to Fleur." Ginny took an exasperated sigh. "So no, you didn't really miss anything."

"Hey Ginny, where's the rest of your family? I don't see Ron anywhere, and he's practically Harry's shadow."

Hermione didn't miss the blush that arose in Ginny's cheek at the mention of Harry's name, confirming her suspicions about her jovial mood.

"Dad and Charlie are helping Bill prepare, and the twins are flaunting their dragon hide jackets to anyone who looks their way." She motioned to the gaudily dressed twins who were currently showing off to the intrigued and naïve Gabrielle. "And Percy's over there."

Both girls snorted to see the aloof and pompous young man brush off some petals that had landed on his robes, only to be replaced by more from a gust of wind.

"And Ron, where is he?"

Ginny suddenly lowered her gaze and shuffled her feet uneasily.

"Ginny? What's up?"

"He's out by the front, talking with Luna Lovegood." _Ahh… so that's why she's uncomfortable. Ginny thinks I still like Ron._ Hermione reached out to her friend and placed a hand on the younger girl's shoulder.

When Hermione did so, Ginny looked up and Hermione explained, "Perhaps I used to have feelings for your brother, but they have vanished and been replaced by nothing more than sisterly-affection. So no more worries about this, OK?"

Ginny nodded and grinned. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of a magicked bell.

"Oh! Looks like it's about to start! I've got to go, see you later!" And with those parting words Ginny scampered off back to the interior of the burrow.

Hermione, now alone, walked uncertainly closer to the chairs, wondering where she was supposed to sit. Luckily, she spotted Harry near the front of the right-hand side who waved her over to an unoccupied seat he had evidently been saving for her.

"Thanks Harry," Hermione said gratefully to the young boy dressed in smart black dress robes. He smiled at her briefly before scanning the crowd for more friends of his. The pair was soon joined by Luna Lovegood, who seemed to be in a particularly good mood, and excitedly started telling Hermione about her trip to Sweden. Not really in the mood to tell the dreamy girl that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack didn't exist, Hermione listened patiently, but inwardly hoping that the wedding would commence.

At the tolling of the second bell, the chatting of the wedding guests ceased, and they all turned in their seats to watch the beginning of the ceremony they had all come for. Albus Dumbledore strolled down the path before everyone else, and took his position behind the podium.

_Should have figured he'd be the one to wed them, is there anything the man's not capable of? _

Following Dumbledore was Bill, walking proudly down the path of petals, looking rather dashing despite his severely mauled face, followed by a series of groomsmen and bridesmaids which included Ron and Ginny. After a few minutes of watching a procession of the Weasleys' close family and friends, the moment the guests had waited for finally arrived.

Garbed in white silk finery, was the gorgeous Fleur Delacour in all of her considerable splendor. Hermione rolled her eyes as she heard nearly every male in the vicinity gasp. _Really now…it's as though they've never seen a woman before._ Though to give the half-Veela credit, she had eyes for nobody but her husband. Hermione watched the moment when the bride's and the groom's eyes met, and saw nothing but pure, unconditional love reflecting in them. _It's not everyday that you see that, _Hermione though longingly to herself, _Wouldn't it be lovely if we all had that?._The cynical part of Hermione's mind broke in harshly, telling her it would never happen to her, and she found the words painfully true.

As Dumbledore continued his sermon, Hermione noticed that Harry seemed rather fidgety, and had a blush on his face that had nothing to do with the warm summer air. Following is line of sight; she saw that he kept glancing at Ginny, who was apparently in an equal state of disquiet, as her cheeks were painted red and she kept tinkering with her bridesmaids bouquet. Hermione smiled to herself, and thought that it seemed as though Harry would have to break his own promise to "keep Ginny safe"; Ginny was more than capable of taking care of herself, and, if anything, Harry needed all the love he could get.

When Fleur and Bill said their 'I do's' and shared a loving kiss, the entire congregation applauded and erupted into cheers, standing up from their chairs which moved to either side of the backyard in order to make room for the post-nuptial dancing. Hermione suddenly found herself alone in a sea of couples, and quickly retreated to the sidelines and took a seat.

She watched as Harry hesitantly approached Ginny, who took his hand without blushing, and started to dance slowly to music that seemed to have no source. Hermione was betting it had something to do with the brilliant Professor Dumbledore, who looked to be congratulating the Weasley twins on their business successes. Feeling most definitely out of place now, Hermione once again took to observing, rather than interacting. She saw Ron dance with Luna, who was not the only one with a dreamy expression on their face. It seemed that her gangly friend had found contentment in the arms of a dreamer. _Good thing too, I don't know what I'd do if he still liked me. As much as I would like a lover, I want one who I desire as well, and my crush on Ron has long gone. It seems he needed a dreamer, and I've always been the one to follow the path of logic._

_But not as of late…damn. _

Hermione shook her head as though to clear it of the repressed thoughts of her uncanny yet lifelike dreams. She stood up, not paying attention to her surroundings, determined to have a good time and take her mind off its current topic. Hermione was so focused on forgetting about her dreams that she walked smack dab into Albus Dumbledore, and unceremoniously fell to the ground in surprise.

"Why hello, Miss Granger," acknowledged the cheerful headmaster, eyes twinkling as he offered a hand to help her up. Hermione graciously took it, blushing from humiliation. "Lovely day for a wedding, wouldn't you agree?"

"Quite," Hermione replied meekly. "I've always found a nice, sunny day relaxing."

She brought a hand up to shield them from the sun, and looked into the kindly Headmaster's eyes. Was it her imagination, or did the twinkle fade for a moment? Hermione decided that the glare from the sun had made her see things.

"Excellent. Have you been having fun with your parents this break? I assume that since you are of age, your magic must startle them at times," chuckled the older man to himself.

"Actually, they've grown to accept it pretty well. Every now and then when I apparate, they might drop something, but otherwise they have adapted." She looked up and made direct eye contact with Dumbledore and said softly, "As much as I love them, I'm looking forward to the start of term."

"I can promise you this Miss Granger, your final year at Hogwarts will be the most memorable." A slightly mischievous glint took hold in his already dancing blue eyes as he spoke, "I don't think I can recall a head girl as capable as you'll be."

Possibly the most beautiful smile Hermione had ever graced anyone with appeared on her lips. As she did so, the song changed into a more upbeat one, and Hermione saw her friends motioning her over to join them. When she turned to go, she whispered a soft 'Thank you' to her most respected professor, and scampered away.

Albus Dumbledore watched the vibrant young woman leave him to join her good friends; a small frown appeared on his face, which seemed much older than it had moments ago. _You can't change what has already happened, _he forcefully reminded himself. Still, as he watched Hermione laugh and dance, sunlight bouncing off her wild curls, Dumbledore wished that her fate had taken a different path. No one deserved a lifetime of darkness.


	6. Twilight Part 1

_Disclaimer-I own nothing you recognize_

_A/N: __Hope you all enjoy, and feel free to review. And as usual, a special thanks to my beta Kate for doing such a fantastic job._

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**Chapter Six **

**Twilight Part 1**

On the eve of August 29th, Hermione found herself wishing to escape the hubbub that her parents were creating over the celebration party that they planned to host tomorrow. Mark and Linda were in an ebullient state over the fact that legally, in the muggle world, she was to be an adult September 19th. Since Hermione would be returning to Hogwarts on the first, they wished to have her last days of summer go out in a bang. Her parents were inviting all of their friends over, and had encouraged Hermione to the same. Needless to say, Hermione was less than pleased that she, Ron, and Harry would have to parade about giving the façade that they were all 'normal' adolescents.

It was nearly eleven after Hermione had persuaded her parents to let her have a break from decorating - Linda had refused to let Hermione conjure decorations up, saying she wanted to do this the traditional way – Hermione nearly sprinted out of the house and into the cool night air. Exhaling deeply, the young woman began to stroll down the dark sidewalk, almost pitch-black say for a few dull streetlights. Shivering slightly with the brisk wind, she put her hands into her pockets and drew out a few photos, walking at a lazy pace as she did so. One was of Hermione and her mother before the wedding, another of a relaxed Harry and Ron, waving slightly at her, in their dress robes with either Ginny or Luna on their arms. So immersed did she become in her pictures, that she failed to notice the presence of footsteps, walking parallel to her on the other side of the street.

Hermione absentmindedly wandered out into the middle of the deserted road, laughing at a particularly funny photo of the twins spiking the punch at the wedding with fire whisky. Suddenly, a gust of wind knocked the amusing picture out of her hand, and floated a few feet down the street under a dim light. She hurried over to pick it up, but by the time she bent down to grab the photo, it was gone. Frowning in confusion, Hermione looked around the dirty ground for it, but stopped her search abruptly when she felt something tap her on the shoulder. Never wanting to be the one at a disadvantage, Hermione jumped to her feet, removing her wand from her jeans as she did so, until she stood directly in front of an oddly dressed stranger, wand pointed directly at his throat.

"Now, now my pretty maiden, is that any way to teach this noble gentleman?"

The gentleman in question smiled winningly down at Hermione, ice blue eyes dancing with mirth as he handed Hermione the picture in her free hand, and she snatched it immediately and stuffed it into her back pocket.

"I was merely being chivalrous."

The strange man spoke eloquently, as though he was an aristocrat. As a matter of fact, he was dressed like he had stepped out of 19th century England high society, and even had the white skin that was prized at the time. Hermione felt smaller than usually at the sight of the flamboyant clothes and nearly two feet he had on her in height. He was garbed in a dark velvet waistcoat with a matching top hat that he wore so low over his pale forehead it touched elegantly arched eyebrows. The most striking thing about the man was his electric blue eyes that still contained glee over the sight of the fierce young woman before him.

"You may call me Cassius, my dear," he cooed as his eyes gave her body a predatory sweep. "And what might be the name of this lady?"

Despite her wariness of the sudden appearance of Cassius, Hermione could not help the unintended reddening of her cheeks as the handsome man's eyes raked her body, eyeing the golden ring she nervously twiddled around her neck. When she realized that she was behaving like a young schoolgirl, she mentally scolded herself and became more irate with the magniloquent man grinning before her.

"Hermione Jane Granger, and I have to ask why a man of your, ah, stature, happened upon a young women at such an unpleasant hour," she replied, never breaking eye contact or lowering her wand.

"Before we have such a lovely chat, would you kindly lower your wand, my lovely Hermione? I assure you, I have no weapon upon my person, as I felt no need to bring it with me."

After suspiciously looking him over, confirming his statement that he was indeed weaponless, she reluctantly lowered her wand and stuffed it back into her pant pocket.

"That wasn't so hard, was it love?" Hermione merely sent him a withering look, "No. As to my manner of garments, I prefer them to modern robes. Dreadfully unattractive." Cassius shuddered slightly. "I, like you, was merely enjoying a peaceful walk at the most quiet time of the day; at night."

He sighed deeply, eyes closing languidly in contentment. Hermione's new acquaintance stayed quite still for a few moments, and just when Hermione was about to scoff in exasperation, a blast of harsh wind suddenly hit the two of them. As Hermione shielded her face from the onslaught Cassius gripped his hat tightly, as though afraid of it to fall off. When the zephyr died down, he frowned and deadpanned, "The wind is not quite to my taste, however."

"Nor mine."

At the sound of Hermione's voice, Cassius's complete attention returned to her, causing Hermione to shift uncomfortably.

"Um, well, I'll guess I'll be going home now."

She turned away from Cassius and started off in the direction of her house.

"Not so fast Hermione," Cassius purred, grabbing her elbow gently, turning Hermione around to face him slowly. "The night is still young, and I would greatly enjoy the pleasure of your company for a walk. Would you do me the honour of granting me your presence for a mere hour or so?"

Something in his hypnotic and slightly menacing eyes pleaded with her, and Hermione found herself agreeing.

They walked in a tranquil silence for a while, simply enjoying the fresh air as they continued their walk out of Hermione's street and onto a more rural road surrounded by forest. Cassius asked Hermione a number of random questions, ranging from her favourite colour to her best friends. When she told him of Harry Potter, he raised a dignified eyebrow and simply muttered "Interesting," and continued on with his myriad of questions. Beginning to feel a bit tired, Hermione began to fiddle with her golden necklace, and struggled to keep her eyes open. Cassius noticed however, and paused mid-stride.

"Tired Hermione?" he questioned rhetorically, smirking slightly when he saw her release a huge yawn. "Not to worry my dear. Sleep will come soon." Cassius chuckled darkly. It was though he was enjoying a private joke with himself, and not an entirety innocent one at that. "I want to show you something."

He gestured towards a dirt trail that would have remained inconspicuous to Hermione had he not pointed it out, the woods that surrounded them rendering it nigh invisible.

"Did I tell you that I was born very near here?" At the shake of her head he continued, "When I was a young boy, I used to come to my 'secret place' as I liked to call it. Whenever I needed to escape the stresses of life and my parents, I usually found myself going there, and I always came back to my mother and father in a better state of mind. Pity those times have passed." Even in her drowsiness, Hermione felt like she was an outsider to Cassius' private thoughts again. He couldn't be more than twenty-five years old, yet he spoke as though his memories had happened centuries ago. _You meet the oldest of souls in the strangest of people…_

Cassius led her down the dirt trail, and surprisingly said nothing. If Hermione had not been watching her own feet to insure she did not trip on a stray rock or branch, she might have noticed that Cassius seemed a bit nervous, and kept constantly readjusting his hat so that it remained securely over his forehead. Or the way he looked at her with a secret craving. Eventually, after what seemed an age, the crude trail branched away from the arbour and into a large clearing with a pond of sorts in it. As she left the wood completely behind her and neared the water, it became clear that it was not a pond at all, but a serene lake. A rush of familiarity came over her, though she was unable to place where it came from.

Cassius, who had until now kept stride with Hermione, had hurried ahead so that he was barely a foot away from the water, and let free a triumphant grin, eyes glittering like diamonds from victory. Hermione, slowly approaching him, did not see this grin or the disturbing glimmer in his eyes, as his face had transformed to a look of contentment.

"It's lovely here," Hermione murmured, her chocolate eyes meeting ice blue ones. "What was it like when you came here?"

"It is no different. It is fortunate that such a pleasant place has remained free from the scars of time and change," Cassius nearly whispered, leaning his head back as though to bask in the presence of the tranquil place.

"I'm glad." A drowsy Hermione mumbled; sleep deprivation beginning to impair her speech and thought. "As lovely as it is, do you think-"

Hermione's inquiry was cut off by yet another unexpected bout of wind, but it attacked them from the front this time. Hermione closed her eyes in attempt to protect them for the biting wind, and suddenly felt wet. Cautiously opening one eye, she inwardly cursed at her now damp clothing, the wind having blown a mist of water at her. Turning to see the damage that had befell her companion, she found him clutching his forehead, teeth gritted and top hat no where to be found.

"Cassius? I can accio your hat for you-"Hermione was cut short for the second time that night, but this time it was not because of a heavy breeze. Cassius was suddenly in front of her, blue eyes glinting with hunger, surprisingly long teeth bared in a snarl. His top hat had been concealing part of his face, and until Hermione saw what was under it, thought it unimportant that he wore his hat that peculiar fashion. On his forehead was a tattoo of a black sun, shooting long rays of silver and scarlet. As her eyes darted from his tattoo to his teeth, and then to his stunning eyes, the horrifying truth instilled itself on Hermione's being, and all previous fatigue left as her face paled to a shade that matched that of Cassius.

"Really now Hermione," the vampire in front of her admonished, "My employer said you were intelligent. How did you not figure this out? I was looking forward to a chase, but since you found out the hard way, this'll have to be quick."

There was no time for Hermione to grab her wand. There was no time to scream. All there was time for was Hermione to look upon Cassius' tattoo, which marked him as an assassin, and have the thought of; _who? Who wants me dead?_ Alas, even the fleetest of thoughts was lost after she felt a blinding pain. Cassius's fangs had ruptured the tender juncture between her throat and shoulder.

Hermione began to savagely beat her fists against Cassius' chest in her attempt at survival, but every mouthful of life he sucked from her veins made every strike more futile. Hermione's hands soon grew limp and fell to her sides and were soon locked there by Cassius, whose tight grip around her tightened painfully. Only when she was locked in the tight embrace of death was Hermione truly able to comprehend her untimely fate.

_No Harry or Rom to save you this time Hermione. How could you have been so stupid as to walk with someone who seems interested in _you_? Stupid, foolish girl…_After Hermione had finished mentally berating herself; her thoughts took a slightly more woeful tone.

_There was so much…all the things I'll never do…never learn. _Hermione eyes fluttered slightly as she felt her rapid heartbeat slow, still wiggling her arms hopelessly against Cassius. In her haze, she almost thought she heard the sounds of hurried footsteps coming near, as though it was one of her friends bent upon saving her. Hermione would have grinned at the absurd notion if she could remember how to use her facial muscles.

Then, without warning, Cassius crushing hold on her was released, and she dropped abruptly to the soft ground, hissing in the direction from whence they came. Disoriented and ears ringing, Hermione heard the demon above her give a particularly dangerous growl before he stepped over the crumpled form of Hermione and walked furiously a few paces away, and began to harshly address someone.

"Who the bloody hell do you think you are, interrupting a siring? I can smell that you're a vampire, so you know the rules about a turning. The girl is mine to sire, there are plenty others to feast on," Cassius growled to the stranger. Even while in a pained daze, it seemed that Hermione had not imagined the sound of footsteps.

Hermione peered through her tangle of hair, and watched the scene before her unfold with misty eyes. As Cassius was in front of the seemingly uninvited guest, and as the vampire wore a long black robe that concealed its face, Hermione could not make out of any of the stranger's finer features. All that she could distinguish was that it was female and unquestionably smaller. If this other vampire was here to devour her, and depended on brute strength to best Cassius, she would undoubtedly lose. Not feeling very sympathetic to Cassius, Hermione could care less of the outcome of the fight that was bound to happen soon if the new vampire didn't leave. The smaller vampire, however, merely shook her head, and stepped a few feet forward, clearly indicating that she wasn't going to leave. Cassius, growing more irritated by the second, bared his fangs and snarled,

"I said, the girl is mine! You obviously don't know who I am, or you would leave well enough alone." The female vampire cocked her head to the side and seemed to observe the assassin. After a few heart pounding moments, at least on Hermione's part, the female took a step back, and began toying with something around her neck. Cassius, having the adaptation of a vampire's sight, saw what it was. Cassius, looking suddenly uneasy, took a deep sniff of the air.

He, if possible, paled. "Wait a minute… Why do you smell like-"Cassius never got to finish his sentence, as the vampire had ceased her fidgeting, and with lightening speed had her wand drawn from her black robes. Cassius, now very afraid, began to back away quickly, but stumbled over Hermione's prone figure on the ground. Hermione winced as he used her weak body for support as he scrambled to his feet, looking quite a mess with his previously immaculate hair dishevelled and free from the confines of its low ponytail.

The female vampire continued to advance on him, stepping politely over Hermione, wand still pointed at the fleeing Cassius. Hermione was feeling much too pained and drowsy to turn over, but was sorely tempted to when she heard Cassius shriek in agony.

"_Solis Necos!" _Shouted the voice of the female, and was accompanied by a bright flash of light that illuminated everything around Hermione. Even though not facing the light, Hermione closed her eyes, as though afraid to be blinded. The whole clearing glowed with the ethereal light, and as it dimmed Cassius's screams slowly died away with it. The clearing, once again tranquil and dark, seemed eerie in the perfect silence, broken only by Hermione's shallow breaths.

After what seemed an age, but in actuality was only seconds, Hermione felt the presence of her vampire saviour bend down next to her. She gently turned Hermione onto her back, and laid the hurt girl's head in her lap. As the vampire began to softly move her gloved hands over her ward's untamed hair, did Hermione dare to open her tightly clenched eyes. The first things she saw were the vividness of the full moon, and the millions of stars twinkling. Hermione would have been content to close her eyes and rest her exhausted mind and body forever, but was brought suddenly back into reality when she heard the all too familiar melodic voice of her saviour.

"It is a beautiful night, isn't it Sunshine?"


	7. Twilight Part 2

_Disclaimer:I own nothing that you recognize._

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Haydees and Jasmine._

* * *

**Chapter Seven **

**Twilight Part 2  
**

"It's…it's you." Hermione barely managed to choke out, attempting to raise her head from the spectre's lap, but failed to do so when she felt a stabbing pain on the left side of her neck where Cassius had bit her. Gasping at the stinging agony, she felt the soft feel of velvet slide over her face and to the injured area on her neck. Finding that words were useless but wanting to soothe the girl, the spectre touched the sluggishly bleeding wound on Hermione's neck and began to rub it in genial strokes. Only when Hermione's breathing eased, did the vampire speak again.

"How did you come by that vampire?" The woman asked softly, not ceasing her comforting ministrations on the injured girl's neck.

"I was...out taking a walk." Hermione's words were coming out more slowly with the fatigue caused by the continual blood loss from her bite, "And he was just…there." She finished lamely.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you not to talk to strangers?" Though the words were sarcastic, the spectre's obvious concern outweighed any harshness that might have existed. Hermione in the state that she was in, however, only registered a verbal jab to her family.

"Of course they did, don't insult my parents!" Hermione stated rather abruptly, trying to remove herself from the spectre's lap, but was prevented by the firm hands that held her shoulders in place.

"Settle down Sunshine. The blood loss is getting to that fragile mind of yours; I'm sure your parents raised you fine." The spectre soothed, beginning to massage Hermione's temple. The action seemed to temporarily placate her, as Hermione's eclectic breaths quieted again.

"What happened to Cassius? He was screaming...then there was light and then there was nothing." Hermione rasped to the older woman.

"The light you saw is the result of the spell _Solis Necos_. Unlike the spurious light of _Lumos_, _Solis Necos _summons real sunlight. So it is not really a surprise that we vampires would be wary of such a spell. Fortunately for me, the caster is immune to the harmful affects of the sunlight. Unfortunately for Cassius, he was not the caster." The spectre chuckled darkly, running her gloved hands through Hermione's hair, fingering the dry blood that had matted there.

"_Solis Necos..._ I've never even heard of it. Wouldn't a spell of that magnitude be renowned? How does one perform the incantation?" Hermione eagerly whispered, curious about this latest anomaly despite her mortal wound.

The spectre's hands stilled in Hermione's locks, and she began to finger a chunk of crusted blood. She seemed hesitant to answer, and Hermione was sure that the vampire bore a frown beneath her hood. When she finally spoke again, the spectre chose each word carefully, as though she was cautious not to reveal a secret.

"The inventors of the spell kept it a secret between the two of them, as the manner it was created in was highly personal. Even if they hadn't kept it so arcane, few could successfully perform the spell. To produce Sunlight on impulse is nearly impossible, the power and emotion required…" The spectre trailed off, leaning her head back to gaze at the stars, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

Waiting on what little bated breath she had left, Hermione waited for the spectre to finish her story. After a few minutes of anticipation, she realized that the spectre was not going to divulge any more information on the subject. Becoming miffed at being denied the knowledge of truly performing the spell, doubled with the pain and weariness she felt, Hermione felt no remorse for being slightly antagonistic with the next question she asked.

"Well," she hissed, "How do you of all people, a vampire, dark creatures of the night that have thus far been proven," She indicated her mangled neck with a shaky hand, "know how to do it?" The spectre's attention snapped back to the young women, and snorted to see how incensed she was. Not at all angry with the young woman, the spectre decided that Hermione deserved to know a little more.

"I was one of the creators." She commented simply, not bothered by Hermione's sudden gasp. Hermione, slack jawed with astonishment, didn't press the subject further. Both were silent for a while, each lost in their thoughts.

_That still doesn't explain why she created it. Why would a vampire want to make a spell like that?_ Trying to put a puzzle that had missing pieces together was always extremely frustrating, especially when the promise of completing it was so alluring. But Hermione didn't have all the facts, which made it impossible for her to find the answer.

Completely oblivious to the martyrdom going on in Hermione's mind, the spectre found herself watching the gentle ripples that danced on the surface of the water before her. _It is a pity none can erase what has already been done_. The spectre looked down at the face of Hermione, which was still distorted with pain. Untangling on of her hands from the girl's hair, the spectre began to move her fingers over the contours of her face. _Is my Sunshine prepared for the changes she will make?_ The vampire moved her hands down Hermione's neck, and her ring attached to the golden chain. Noticing the spectre's interest in her necklace, she lightly touched one of the vampire's hands, causing the older woman to start and drop the ring. Seeing that she was surprised at the contact, Hermione took her hand and entwined it with the startled spectre's.

"My mum gave it to me." Hermione said shyly, giving the spectre's hand a comforting squeeze. Her gentle actions and words lulled the spectre back into imperturbation, and she once again took to looking at the gentle complacency of the water. Suddenly, Hermione tightened her grip on the vampire's hand almost painfully, and the scent of disconsolate tears permeated the air. Looking down, she saw the tear-stained face of the young witch.

"I'm not going to live much longer, am I?" The despondent girl questioned rhetorically, sniffing slightly.

The spectre sighed deeply, and took in a deep breath of unneeded oxygen before replying.

"When the sun fully rises, you will not be breathing." All the sorrowful girl did was nod her head, casting the vampire a ruthful yet understanding half smile. "I was going to be head girl this year, you know." Hermione bragged teasingly, trying to make light of her situation but failing miserably. Her condition was worsening by the minute, and if it had been hard to keep awake before, it was nearly impossible now.

"And a fine one you would have made." The spectre remarked, grasping Hermione's hand tightly when sensing that she was close to losing consciousness.

"Since I'm not going to be around much longer, would it be too much to ask your name?" The dying witch asked softly, feeling her ability to speak wavering.

"My given name proved to be nothing more than a vexatious reminder of what I used to be. I have come to call myself Levana." Not feeling physically able to talk anymore, all Hermione did was blink several times up at the spectre, hoping that she could see the thankfulness in her bloodshot orbs.

Understanding that the sands of time had nearly run out for her Sunshine, Levana knew that her hour of reckoning had arrived as well. Taking one last glance at the surrounding milieu, she silently thanked and cursed it simultaneously. Grateful for the tranquility it provided, hating it for never changing. The vampire looked down at the girl who clenched her right hand, knowing that death was unavoidable but still clinging to her last vestiges of life. With her free hand, she drew her hood over her head, and revealed her face.

Hermione vaguely acknowledged that the spectre removed her hood, and that she pulled her torso up so that her head lolled listlessly against the vampire's shoulder. She didn't realize or care what the implications were until she was face to face with Levana.

Had she had remembered how to use her facial muscles properly, Hermione was certain she would have gasped. She had surmised from the spectre's graceful figure and movements that the vampire would have been beautiful, but she hadn't known to what extent. Levana was quite honestly the most stunning person that Hermione had ever seen.

The vampire's skin was that of unblemished porcelain, as it was completely untouched by the harsh light of the sun. Her skin contrasted perfectly with the crimson shade of her full lips, which were slightly open to reveal pearly canines. Levana's curly hair was many a shade of brown, ranging from near tawny to deep chocolate. All of this was enough to leave any mortal stunned with the majesty of the transcendent being before them, but it was her eyes that made Hermione go into shock.

Levana had dark toffee eyes that glimmered gold, and if one looked past the surface they could see that they shown with tales of untold regret and sadness. Hermione saw all of this, and was surprised to find that she recognized Levana's eyes. After all, excluding the golden specks, whenever she had looked into a mirror the same eyes that she stared into now reflected back.

This spectre, this beautiful vampire who called herself Levana, was Hermione. Eyes widening in shock, all the dying Hermione could do was place her hand on Levana's cheek. This was the last thing that Hermione saw before she closed her eyes for the last time. Hermione's hand slipped down her beautiful duplicates face and down to her throat to where a familiar golden chain resided.

Hearing the slowing heartbeat of her Sunshine, Levana brought a hand to her lips and tugged off the offending glove so that the ghostly pale skin of her hand glowed in the moonlight. Dragging her wrist across minatory fangs so that her blood flowed freely from the laceration, she brought her newly made wound to the mouth of the nearly dead Hermione. Leaning closer, Levana closed her eyes with shame but whispered inveigling into her ear.

"Sunshine, if you want, you can have another chance at a different life. A life that promises answers to questions that you have only dreamt of knowing, but never dared to voice such odious thoughts. All you have to do is open your mouth." As Levana breathed in Hermione's scent, an innocent blend of daisies and fresh water, the girl's body instinctively opened its dry lips a fraction of an inch. Perhaps the vampire knew that her human self hadn't purposely done this, but it was the only permission the vampire needed, and gently let her cold blood drip steadily into Hermione's mouth. With every drop that fell into Hermione's mouth, Levana shut her eyes a little tighter, unable to look at the girl with a free conscience. Still, it was to no avail. She could still hear the meticulous drip drop of the blood falling.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Hermione was floating in a frigid abyss, completely surrounded by a shroud of darkness. She looked up to see stars, but even they were hidden. Hermione waved a hand as if to clear the darkness, and a small glint of starlight appeared. Something told her that she had to get to the light; she reached out with one arm to try and touch it. The cold air rushed around her, pushing her towards the star. As she neared it, more stars twinkled above her. Laughing delightedly as she flew through the air, knowing that she was near her goal, she vaguely heard the whispers of an enchanting voice, trying to lure her towards it with its promises. She paused in the air, and looked to see where the voice was coming from. Looking down, all she saw was the moon and stars glistening like silver coins upon the water. Hermione was content to gaze at the quiescent sight, but was distracted by a flash of gold out of the corner of her eye. Still hovering above the water, she turned and glided over to where she had noticed the flash. When she neared the water's bank, the silhouettes of two figures appeared. One of them, whose face was obscured by a mass of silky curls, seemed to have her wrist pressed against the other's mouth.

A shiver of apprehension ran through Hermione's body, and she paused when she was only a few feet away from the two women. Dropping to the ground, she cautiously closed the remaining distance between them, and bent down so that she would be eye level with them. Another tendril of fear made itself known as she identified the person who was taking light draws of the others blood as herself. Hermione watched with fascinated horror as her duplicate drank blood, and unable to witness anymore, turned her petrified eyes to the face of the stranger. The golden eyes of the stranger looked at her with regret, silently asking for forgiveness, before looking determinedly away. Now feeling complete unadulterated terror, Hermione screamed softly, before turning to run. She was only a few paces away when a crippling pain in her neck caused her to fall to her knees. She clutched the left side of her neck where the agony originated. Hermione could feel something hot and watery running over her palm and into her hair, and bringing her hand to her face she saw the unmistakable red of blood. Eyes rolling back into her skull, she collapsed face down into the earth, completely unconscious. Even then the blood continued to flow from beneath a mass of hair, staining the curls and the ground surrounding it.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Hermione awoke, entirely disoriented, to the taste of cool copper on her lips. Moving her tongue around, she found there was a surplus of the strangely flavored liquid in her mouth. She did not know what it was or where it came from, but her parched throat cried out for it. Hermione began to tenuously swallow the chilled fluid at first, but with each passing sip her confidence grew and she began to drink more fervently. Strength starting to return, she groped for the source of her nourishment, and once found she held Levana's wrist tightly to her mouth as she took hearty pulls of the vampire's blood. Hearing an agonized hiss from her undead double, she flicked her eyes up to meet Levana's, not bothering to stop her drinking. The vampire had bitten her tongue to keep from crying out again, but her face and body trembled from the torture of having her blood drawn. Dropping her wrist immediately, Hermione hastily maneuvered Levana so that she was embracing her. Trying to placate her, she began to run soothing hands down the vampire's back, and to her relief it had the desired effect. Levana's shuddering form stilled after a few moments, and she became immobile against Hermione. Hearing the anxious girl's heart beat quicken with each passing pump told Levana that she had been successful in her accursed task. It had been a while since she had cried.

"My dear Sunshine, could you possibly forgive me?" She murmured into Hermione's shoulder, still aware of the long forgotten sensation of crying.

"What? Why? I would have been dead if it wasn't for you. There is nothing to be sorry for! You saved me!" She all but yelled, eyes sparkling near gold, furious at the thought that this remarkable vampire version of herself was blaming herself. "You need blood. Here," loosening her grip on Levana, she moved her cut wrist to the vampire's mouth, "I'm feeling much better; you can have some of yours-"

"I did not save you." Levana growled impetuously, Causing Hermione to recoil slightly in surprise. "Yes, my blood gives you temporary life. Since your natural blood couldn't be found, your organs eagerly indulge themselves on my deceiving blood. It is so powerful it enhances all the senses, and makes the heart beat with adrenalin." She took one of Hermione's hands and placed it on her chest. Hermione's face immediately paled as she felt how fast her heart was beating. "Only when the blood inhabits every vein, every artery, every corner of your body, will it show its true colors. My dead blood turns on your body, killing everything in your body, until nothing but a walking corpse with memories is left. But the blood doesn't die. It never dies. The blood calls out for the living, and will stop at nothing to get it. Only the light of day can subdue it. So I'm afraid that what I have done tonight is far from heroic." Using her last of remaining strength, Levana pushed herself away from a pallid Hermione. Trying to make sense of the situation, Hermione quietly asked,

"Then why did you encourage me to drink it? I can hardly remember, but you said something about 'answers to questions'. Why did you say that if you didn't want me to become a vampire?" Her voice was shaking, but not from anger. Though it had been a warm summer night when she had left her house hours ago, it was far too cold now. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, resting her head on her knees.

"That was empathy trying to lighten a situation far too dark." Levana said softly, all harshness gone at seeing the girl she had been once shake with an internal gelidity. "I knew it was the only tantalization that you might possibly chase." Looking up, Hermione was about to ask how she knew, but was distracted by a light on the horizon of the lake. Levana didn't seem to notice, and answered the unspoken question.

"There might be a monsoon of water under that bridge, but remember we were once the exact same person? I know everything about you. For instance, your dearest friend Harry Potter has been scarred in more ways than one, and scars never really fade, do they?" Tearing her eyes away from the distant sunrise, she nodded sadly at Levana. "Harry is determined to hunt down and destroy every last one of Voldemort's Horcruxes." The vampire caressed the name of the Dark Lord with such a yearning that it made Hermione wonder just exactly how he had earned that passionate utterance. Frowning and shaking her head of such stray thoughts, she continued to listen to Levana.

"Your other friend, Ronald, would follow Harry to the ends of the earth and back just to get revenge on the bastard who dared to harm his friend. You, well technically we, are not like that. You would rather see the types of enchantment bestowed upon the horcrux, what makes it tick, intrinsically. We care not of the quintessence of magic, whether it be labeled as 'black' or 'white'. It would tear your friend's delicate hearts apart if they knew what you truly thought." Levana told Hermione, who bowed her head in disgrace, knowing each word was true. "Don't be ashamed, it's who you are." She soothed, touching Hermione's shoulder in a gesture of understanding, before turning to look across the water at the approaching dawn. "The sun is rising; you need to leave this place. Soon you will be like me. Your life is over in this world, but a new one waits in the past. Go to Dumbledore, he will guide you." Standing up, still shivering, Hermione offered to help Levana to her feet, but the vampire just shook her head woefully.

"No Sunshine, this is your journey. Just promise me one thing. When the time comes around, remember that you are no longer bound by the rules of mortals. You are free to choose your fate, be it duty or desire. I chose neither, as I could not accept duty, but not bring myself to betray my past and submit to my desires. Solitude is far worse than either of the options, and I regret every day not picking the latter. Don't make my mistake." And with that, Levana stood up, and walked away from Hermione, closer to the edge of the lake.

Hermione stared at her perfectly composed vampiric self for a few moments, absentmindedly rubbing her arms, trying to digest all the information Levana had given her. She opened her mouth to call out to the vampire, perhaps to further question her, but all that came out was a small "Thank You." Levana gave the smallest of nods, but otherwise completely ignored her. Sighing, Hermione walked to the clearings edge where the path Cassius had led her on ended. She was about to enter the arbor when a stabbing pain in chest. Clutching her fists to her breast, Hermione gritted her teeth but continued down the path.

&&&&&&&

_Change your fate, dear Sunshine. None can erase the past, but you can rewrite the future. _The corners of cerise lips tilted upwards slightly, before breaking into a full-fledged smile. Admiring the way the rays of dawn shown off the water, Levana bent down over the water and glided her hands over the lambent waves. As the sun rose, its rays extended to the lake shore, dancing over her smooth hands. Instead of retreating into the shade of her robes and the woods, the vampire just smirked at the burning sensation she felt, and raised her arms to greet the sun. When the rays completely consumed her, and she was nothing more but ashes floating in the wind, you could still hear her emancipated laugh.

&&&&&&

With each step she took the icy hand that seemed to be gripping her heart squeezed a little tighter, and her feet were landing on the ground in slower and heavier increments._ I have to hurry! The sun will be up soon, and you're in no condition to apparate. Get it together!_ Biting her tongue to keep from screaming, Hermione began to run as fast as her dying body would let her. Staggering out of the woods, she ran lopsidedly back to her house, barely evading the sun as she did do. Once arriving at her house, she hurriedly groped for her door handle, and flung herself inside. Now safe, away from the dawn, Hermione was free to concentrate on her pain. Falling on her hands and knees, not allowing herself to scream because it would wake her parents up, she bit down even harder on her tongue, causing it to bleed. Panting from the overwhelming suffocation of her lungs constricting and releasing all her precious air, she was helpless to stop a few errant drops of blood from falling to the floor. For what seemed the millionth time that night, Hermione once again collapsed, this time on her back. Gasping for oxygen, Hermione spat out most of the blood in her mouth, not caring that it landed over her face and into her eyes.

Coughing and spitting, Hermione just wished that the most painful part of her day would be over already. She endured a few more minutes of torturous and useless breaths before she felt, no heard, her rapid heart beat slow. Closing her eyes, Hermione's desultory breaths finally stopped, and her heart soon followed afterwards.

Outside, the sun had fully risen. Birds chirped as its golden rays warmed their nests, eager to start the day. Young children woke their parents up, to impatient to wait for the fun of outdoors. Inside, a young woman lay recently dead on her living room floor. Her hair and clothes were stained with old and dry blood, and her body was far to be cold to be only a few minutes deceased. There was no noise downstairs; there was nothing alive to disturb the eerie silence.

A single eyelid opened, revealing brown eyes that sparkled with golden secrets, and there was still no noise.

* * *

_According to my personal vampire terminology, one has to be drained and then fed the blood of a vampire in order to be turned. If Levana had not given Hermione her blood, she would have died. And while I'm down here explaining things, Tom Riddle will enter the story in approximately two chapters, so the wait is almost over._


	8. The Other Side

_Disclaimer- I own nothing you recognize._

_A/N: Alright, I won't discuss it here in case some of you haven't finished it yet, but..._

_Did you all like Deathly Hallows?? I finished it on saturday, and have been in a post-Potter depression ever since.  
_

* * *

**Chapter Eight **

**The Other Side**

There was nothing to see but shadows. It seemed her parents had closed all the curtains, as the room was mercifully void of all natural light. Roving a single eye around the room to make sure it was deserted, Hermione hesitantly opened her other eye. Gazing at the ceiling, she gingerly moved her right hand, which lay at her side in a small pool of blood. Feeling the cold liquid, she tensed, and abruptly sat up. She looked curiously at her hand and flexed it, marveling at the strength she felt in doing so. Lifting the hand to her face, ignoring the blood that sprinkled on her clothes in doing so, she examined it at a closer proximity. Physically, the only difference worth noting was the slight elongation of her fingers and nails. Fisting her palm she could hear the bones crack and tendons tightening, as though ready to break anything or anyone that should vex her.

Standing to her feet, careful not to slip in any of the dark liquid that surrounded her, Hermione delicately stepped out of the pool of blood and sidled closer to the stairs, not really noticing or caring that her entire backside was soaked with the chilled fluid, until she took a sniff of the air.

Eyes widening, she choked as the acrid scent of blood invaded her nostrils, and nearly fell to her knees again. Catching herself on the banister, she clutched a hand to her heart and exhaled, an action that usually soothed her. Apparently, however, it did not have the desired effect now that she had no breath to release. All she got was the oddly appealing taste of blood in her mouth, and the depressing feeling of having no heartbeat.

_You had better get used to that, Hermione. It's not like you're going to feel it beat anytime soon. Now keep walking up those stairs, you can't stay here much longer. _Staring at her fist and narrowing her eyes, she grabbed her clenched fist with her other hand, forcibly wrenching it away, accidentally cutting herself in doing so with one of her sharp nails.

If the smell of blood had been potent before, it was nothing compared to the overwhelming scent of blood fresh from the body. Bringing her palm to her mouth, she extended her tongue to the cut. Hermione gave it a few tentative licks at first, somewhat appalled at her behavior.

_It's what you are now Hermione. Don't be ashamed, _a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Levana told her. Feeling a little better, she began to lap at the blood more fervently, eyes closing at the first swallow of the liquid ecstasy. Hermione sat down on the carpeted steps, and soon had her palm pressed to her lips; sucking the wound for all that it was worth. She sat there in a daze, ignoring her surroundings completely as she drank her own blood until she could taste it no longer. Looking at her hand, she discovered the wound to be completely healed. Growling softly in frustration, she put her head in hands, rocking slowly. Her body cried out for more blood, but not just any blood, the heated, exquisite blood of the living. While her own had been acceptable, she instinctively knew that her hunger wouldn't leave until it had been satisfied.

_I have to get out of here! I don't know what would happen if I met my parents…oh Merlin, I might kill them! _

Golden orbs shining with tears, she stood up determinedly, and began to march up the stairs as quietly as possible. Hermione took baby steps down the hallway, eyes clamped shut, muttering that she wouldn't be able to pass her parents room if she saw their door. The newly made vampire would have succeeded in this endeavor, if it had not been for the sound of a door creaking open. Opening her eyes, she looked down and saw her beloved half-kneazle standing beside her parent's slightly ajar door.

He didn't seem to be afraid of her, all he did was cock his squashed face from side to side, as though he was trying to figure out what was different from his mistress. A lone tear slipped down Hermione's face at the sight of her dear pet.

_Crookshanks…you, of all creatures, have always been there for me._ Bending down on one knee, she gave him a watery smile and extended her palm towards the cat. Crookshanks had always been the best judge of character that she had ever known, and a lone tear slipped down her dirty cheeks at the thought of his inevitable rejection. _Who would trust a vampire, after all?_ The vampire was about to draw her hand back, but was prevented in doing so by course fur that rubbed against her fingers, and the unmistakable sound of purring.

"Crookshanks…thank you." Hermione mumbled, grabbing the still purring Crookshanks into a tight hug. "What were you doing in mum and dad's room?" Not really expecting an answer, she inched forward on her knees to peer into her parent's room.

Linda and Mark were sprawled across their bed, fully dressed and snoring, with small frown lines on their faces. Evidently, they had fallen asleep quite upset, and Hermione guiltily realized why.

_They must have been worried sick, waiting for me to come home. Oh mum…dad…I'm so sorry, but your little girl won't be coming back home. I can't stay here, it's not safe for you…_looking at the vulnerable forms of two humans seemed to have brought her bloodlust back to the surface, and with a shudder she repressed it. Standing up, cat firmly clutched against her chest, she gave her parents one last look of deepest sorrow, before whispering her last 'Goodbye' to them.

Creeping into her room, very thankful that she had closed her curtains earlier, she dumped a hissing Crookshanks onto her bed, and began to forage around the room. Grabbing all the photos she could find, including the crumpled one's in her jeans, she stuffed them into her trunk along with her new textbooks. They were the only things of real value she possessed, excluding her wand, cat, and necklace of course. Hermione saw no need to pack any of her frumpy muggle clothing, as she planned on going to Hogwarts and already had her school robes in her trunk. With her school robes lay her head girl badge, which she had received a few weeks prior. Fingering the letters 'HG' fondly, she stuffed it into her nearly full jean pocket. Hermione would need it handy when she returned it to the headmaster.

Trunk nearly full, she gave her room a final look over, and her sweeping eyes paused at the sight of a familiar book. Stalking over to it she picked it up, giving it a piercing glance.

_Lore and Fact About the Vampyre, eh? Whoever gave this to me must have known…we'll see if you prove true. _Tucking it under her elbow, she rummaged around her nightstand for a bowl of floo powder. Once found, Hermione allowed the heavy Crookshanks to jump on her shoulder as she dragged her trunk to the fireplace in front of her bed.

"Incendio," the vampire whispered to the old, half rotten logs, setting them ablaze with blue fire. Hermione tossed in the little floo powder that she had, which instantly turned the flames emerald green. She closed her eyes as she stepped into the hearth, giving a quick but audible 'Dumbledore's office.'

The unpleasant spinning sensation soon began, causing Crookshanks to hiss and dig his claws deep into Hermione's shoulders. She had to bite her lip to the point of making it bleed, which only served to frustrate Hermione further. Finally, after much spinning, the world stopped turning, and a much relieved yet pained vampire dropped to her hands and knees, grateful to feel the cool surface of a stone floor on her palms. Crookshanks released his painful grip on her shoulders as he to fell to the ground, though with more snarling and hissing on his part.

Hermione could yet again taste the deliciously piquant tang of blood, which was now becoming familiar. The vampire nibbled at her torn lip, tawny eyes closing hazily, ignoring the footsteps that approached her at a fast pace. When the shuffling of feet stopped in front of her, she slowly raised her head and eyelids to meet the gaze of the person before her. Hermione's teeth dropped her swollen lip when her topaz eyes found that of twinkling blue that sparkled with sadness.

"Hello, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said quietly, voice laden with sorrow as he looked over her bloodstained figure. "Are you quite well?"

Staring at the man as though he were insane, Hermione was unable to stop her jaw from falling a few centimeters. _Does he honestly think…?_ An unbidden chuckle made its way out of her mouth, and before long Hermione was clutching her stomach with dark mirth.

Dumbledore watched as the vampire roll around on the floor for a few minutes, her laughter reverberating against the walls in a somewhat sinister way. Even Crookshanks found it disturbing, his hackles raised as he backed away from his mistress. But as the nature is in all things, the laughter turned to tears, and his former prized pupil was sobbing into her hands. What made it even worse, as she needed no breath to call in more air, the weeping Hermione's tears never lessened in their intensity.

Knowing that he could do nothing to placate her, Dumbledore waited patiently for the devastated vampire to recollect herself. She eventually stopped crying; giving a few last sniffs, before grabbing the sides of her face, and began to scream. Hermione screamed so loud and for long that a chorus of lament could be heard from the two creature occupants of the room. Crookshanks yowled for his once-human mistress, and Fawkes sang his tragic hymn for her. When Dumbledore felt his own tears of grief threatening to spill, he gently placed a hand onto the wailing vampire's shoulder. She stopped screaming at his touch, turning her damp eyes to his, mouth slightly open.

Hermione's luminescent orbs traveled down his weary face, and rested on the pulse point that lay on his neck. Eyes lighting up even further, they followed the sound of rushing blood to the vital artery that resided in his wrist. Growling as she subconsciously licked her lips, she leaned closer to the hand on her shoulder. Hermione's teeth were a scant hairs width away, when she realized that she was about to bite her headmaster. Recoiling from his touch, she scooted away from him until she bumped into Fawkes perch, causing even more of a disturbance as he screeched and fluttered over to Dumbledore. The vampire began to shudder uncontrollably, and the huge, racking sobs returned.

"Sor-sor-sorry, Professor," Hermione choked out, throat hoarse from yelling, "I couldn't hel-help it sir, I'm so hun-hungry…I ne-need blood…"

Walking swiftly over to the quivering girl, Dumbledore reached into the front pocket of his robe, and pulled out a small black bottle with a ruby stopper. He quickly removed the red gem with a hard tug, and held the flask up to Hermione's face.

Hermione didn't even notice that the headmaster had moved closer to her, but she did hear a small 'pop', followed by the insatiable aroma of blood. Sobs ceasing almost immediately, she looked through her fingers to see what the source was. In front of her eyes was a small onyx flask, nothing special about it. But if one narrowed their eyes, they might see the faint vapors of crimson and lilac dancing from the opening. Whatever was in the vial was not blood, but damn near close, and that was good enough for Hermione.

Snatching it away from the headmaster's wrinkled hand; she downed the liquid in one hearty swig, licking her lips in satisfaction. Hermione raised the flask to her eye and squinted, determined to see if there was a drop left. The headmaster chuckled at her childish behavior, and she growled at him, though more playfully this time. She even had the courage to look up at him and smile, not knowing that her eyes had lost most of their terrifying gold, and teeth had receded to a more normal length.

Smiling lightly at her friendlier appearance, Dumbledore offered her a hand up, which she gladly accepted. The potion he had given had worked like a charm; she was back in her less feral state of mind. Dusting herself off, highly embarrassed, she returned his smile weakly, hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth in bashfulness. Pride still damaged, she managed to summon enough confidence to ask,

"So, that potion was a substitute for blood? Thank Merlin you had one on you…I don't know what would've happened if I hadn't-" the vampire was cut off by a gentle hand that raised itself in the air, queuing her into silence.

"Miss Granger, I assure you, I think no less of you for your actions. It is quite understandable. But I'm afraid that you didn't answer my question." Frowning as he looked over her bloodstained figure, he asked again, "Are you alright?"

Hermione's smile faltered, before disappearing altogether. She stopped her fidgeting, and a shaky hand touched the bite marks on her neck. "As well as one can be I suppose, considering my situation." Looking up at his sympathetic face, she whimpered, "What am I going to do?"

Patting her on the shoulder, he guided Hermione over to his desk, motioning for her to take a seat. Taking his own seat behind the desk, he pushed a small bowl towards the lost looking vampire. "Lemon drop?"

"No thank you professor." She replied, not looking at him, still lost in thought.

"Before we discuss your new, ah, living conditions, I need to know how this serious misfortune befell you. Please, take your time. I'm in no rush."

Without looking up at the headmaster, Hermione began to recount the events that had occurred yesterday and earlier that morning. When the vampire got to the part where she had discovered a tattoo on Cassius's forehead, Dumbledore stiffened. Giving him a curious glance, she raised an eyebrow in question.

"Why Miss Granger, do you know what that tattoo means?" At her nod of approval, he continued, "This means that he was hired by someone, a powerful someone, an enemy, to turn you into a vampire." His voice hardened at his next statement. "I can think of one person who could have done this."

Nodding, Hermione added, "Yes sir. Voldemort does have the power to deal with such assassins. But I can't help but wonder why, why would he want me a vampire?"

"Miss Granger, surely you know the answer to that." Shaking her head in confusion, he continued, "You are one of Harry Potter's, the bane of his existence, best friends. This makes you a large target for simply allying yourself with him. I'm assuming you know all this." Hermione slowly nodded her head, still nonplussed.

"But why you? Why not Ron Weasley, his friend from the very beginning, or Ginevra, who unknowingly or not, holds his heart in her hands? The answer is simple. Without you as a friend, Harry would not be with us, Voldemort would have conquered him in his first year. It is your intelligence, Miss Granger, which makes you the greater, if not greatest, threat to him."

Comprehension beginning to dawn on Hermione, she inclined her head more assuredly. However, one question still remained.

"Then why not just kill me outright? Why make me a vampire? It seems an awful lot of trouble to go through with."

"Were you just listening to what I just said? You were gifted with an ingenious mind Miss Granger. A mind like that makes a terrible enemy, but would be an invaluable ally." Gasping in shock, Hermione could have sworn that her heart might have burst from surprise.

_Not that it would have mattered, _she mused darkly, _it's not like I have much use for the thing anymore._

"I still don't understand. He could have easily kidnapped me last night…instead he hires Cassius to turn me. Does he have some special sway over vampires?" Now alarmed, she jumped to her feet, and started to pace.

"No he does not, luckily for us. What he does have is equally as bad, however. My theory is this: while you were alone, hurt, and half insane from the call of blood he would have come to you, offering blood and shelter. Voldemort can be quite persuasive at times; he can make it very hard to say 'no'. If he had approached you with these promises, and had you been in the state that you exhibited in my office, "Hermione ducked her head again, thoroughly shame faced, "You would have fallen for his deception."

"I'm guessing that Voldemort wasn't going to give me a potion, was he?" Hermione questioned rhetorically, and then snorted darkly. "He would have given me a person, a muggle most likely, and encourage me to drink my fill. And…I would have done so," she whispered, guilty with herself at knowing that she could do such a terrible thing.

"Miss Granger, there is no reason for you to feel guilty for things that have not come to pass. You should be proud that you escaped this Cassius. I, myself, am in awe that you made it to safety. Would you mind indulging an old man how you managed to elude Cassius after he bit you?"

_Why so interested about Cassius? Well, I suppose I would be too. But what to tell Dumbledore? I was saved from Cassius. By myself. How is that even possible in the first place? Levana seemed to know, in fact, she seemed to know a lot, too much. She was…IS…me…and rescued me. No! Cassius himself said that he was going to turn me, and here I am. In the undead flesh._

Growling, Hermione smacked herself on the side of her head. There was simply too much information to process all at once. Dumbledore watched with slight curiosity as the vampire had a silent feud with herself. What was she not telling him?

_But wait, Levana did offer to turn me…or let me pass. True, I was barely conscious at the time, but she did ask. Nothing was forced upon me by her. Would Dumbledore believe any of this? That there was somehow another me?_

The hairs on Hermione's back rose when she thought of telling the headmaster about her other self. The vampire quickly realized that her acute instincts didn't want her to tell Dumbledore about Levana.

_And yet, she told me to come to see him. Perhaps I should alter my story...a tiny bit._

"After he bit me, he forced me to drink his blood." She shuddered for good measure. "And then…pain. Like someone was turning me inside out, while suffocating me at the same time." Another shudder, this one not forced. The pain had indeed been intolerable.

"It didn't last long, fortunately. All was black for a bit…then I remember opening my eyes and seeing his sneering face. I pulled out my wand, and petrified him. He was still frozen when the sun started to rise. That bastard's as good as dust now." She muttered with a devious smirk, enjoying the knowledge that he was indeed dust.

A flicker of agitation shown in the headmaster's eyes, before it was replaced with more concern. Dumbledore sighed deeply, shaking his head, and stood up, facing away from Hermione.

"Headmaster? I believe you said we could discuss my accommodations now." Sighing with his back still turned, he walked over to a massive bookshelf of his and began rummaging around the shelves.

"Ah, Headmaster? Professor Dumbledore?" Did the man not hear her? She was about to ask him again when he suddenly grabbed a rusty object from the bookshelf. Walking back towards her, he opened his palm to reveal an ancient looking time turner.

"The answer to your question, Miss Granger, is not where, but when. Please, put this on."

Hermione stood up, and delicately picked up the fragile instrument. Letting it dangle on a thin chain, she looked closer at it. Around the silver turner were many tiny circles, each with a line through the middle of them. Slipping the silver chain around her neck, she looked to Dumbledore for further instruction.

"Come with me, Miss Granger. We need to be in a different room for this to work." Motioning for her to follow him, he strode out of the office, and down his winding staircase. Shrugging, Hermione 'accioed' her trunk and whistled to her cat, and followed the headmaster. After he passed the gargoyles, Dumbledore began to walk at such a brisk pace that Hermione had to jog to keep up with him. The pair were traveling through the hallways for a good fifteen minutes before the Headmaster stopped at the door to the Transfiguration office.

"Thank goodness that Minerva is away on business," he chuckled, opening the unlocked door and holding it open for Hermione. "Or we would have had a very difficult time explaining things, wouldn't we?"

Once both were inside McGonagall's room, and Dumbledore had securely locked the door, did he start to explain Hermione's situation.

"Miss Granger, exactly fifty three years ago to the day, a mysterious and beautiful girl appeared in this office. Very suddenly too, I might add. I was so surprised I spilled my tea all over the desk." Smiling at memories past he added, "This young women looked remarkably like you do now, and seemed perfectly unabashed at her unexpected manifestation. She introduced herself, and presented me with a sealed envelope." He reached inside his robe pocket again, and pulled out a very old, worn envelope. It was obvious that it had been resealed some time ago. Dumbledore carefully placed the parchment into Hermione's hands, and spoke again.

"The letter said that you were inflicted with vampirism, but if you received a regular intake of the _Reproba cruor _potion, that this would not be a problem. Apart from that, it said you were to be trusted and respected, and treated as though you were a transfer student." Eyes lighting up as he smiled at the intrigued vampire, Dumbledore continued his tale.

"Do you know what the most peculiar thing about this was, Miss Granger? The letter was signed with a signature I am highly familiar with, my own.

"The time turner you have around your neck is not an ordinary one, I'm sure you've noticed this." Hermione nodded, and asked,

"What do the circles mean professor? I noticed a few of them on my old turner before, but none of them had lines through them."

"The lines in the circle represent absolute time. This is a rare and entirely unique time turner; it takes one back not hours, but years." Grasping one of her cool hands, he pleaded, "I need you to spin this turner 53 times, and fulfill the task that was set to you so many years ago. You have the power to change the future, Miss Granger. You can give your friends back the lives they deserve. You can give Harry back his family, Hermione."

Stunned into silence, Hermione could feel the beginnings of tears forming at the corner of her eyes. _I can let Harry have a happy life…oh, how he deserves it._

"Professor, what is the task that you would have me do?" she whispered, and Dumbledore grinned.

"Thank you Miss Granger. However, I think that question will eventually answer itself." Stepping away from her, he grew somber once again.

"It has truly been treasure, having you as a student. I have a feeling that you're going to do great things Miss Granger." Hermione favoured him with a small smile, and reached into her jean pocket. She plucked out the shiny badge, and with a trembling hand, gave it to Dumbledore. Unable to look back at him, she magicked her suitcase so that it fit into her pocket. Softly calling out to Crookshanks, the cat jumped into her open arms with no reservations, ready to follow his mistress to the bitter end.

She began to rotate the time turner with one hand, slowly at first, then deliberately. When she reached fifty turns, she paused and gave Dumbledore one last glance. Her old headmaster watched her with something akin to pride and sorrow, firmly holding her badge in one of his aged hands.

"Goodbye, professor Dumbledore," she called out, and afraid to wait for a reply, quickly spun the turner three more times. Nothing happened at first, but then it was as though an invisible hand reached out and grabbed the scuff of her neck, pulling Hermione away from the office and Dumbledore.

"Goodbye, Hermione Granger," the headmaster whispered, and Hermione barely caught the farewell before she was completely sucked into time.

Having experienced time travel before, Hermione was no stranger to the peculiar way the world seemed to rewind, allowing her to catch private glimpses into people's lives. However, that had been for mere hours. Going back years…was somewhat different.

She closed her eyes as wind rushed around her, blowing her hair every which way, as the force of half a century consumed her. But, quicker than the floo network, the wind died down, and only then did Hermione open her eyes.

The first thing she saw was a much more youthful Albus Dumbledore, sipping a cup of tea and quietly humming to himself. Apart from the difference in hair color and fewer wrinkles, the man appeared oddly ageless. Hermione stared at him for a few moments, marveling at the wonder of time travel. A sly thought crossed Hermione's mind, and deciding to test it, she coughed loudly.

Yelping in pain as hot tea scalded his hand and spilled over his desk, a surprised and slightly afraid Dumbledore looked at the young woman. The first thing he noticed was her striking beauty, and to his chagrin, amusement at his misfortune. Even the large tabby she held in her arms seemed to be grinning. His worries for his safety vanished when the woman's smirk transformed into a radiant smile.

"Who are you?" he asked politely, tea still dripping from his robes.

The female seemed to ponder that question, as if deciding the best way to answer. She tilted her head form side to side, eyes far away. The woman answered quietly, and more to herself than to him, when she replied,

"Hermione. Hermione…Levana."


	9. Enter the Enigma

_Disclaimer-I own nothing you recognize._

_A/N: I am very sorry for the long delay in the update, but it could not be helped. So, without further ado, I give you the longest chapter yet, and as promised, Tom Riddle._

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**Enter the Enigma**

"Well then, Hermione Levana, would you please tell me exactly how you happened to find yourself in my office?"

Hermione held out the ancient letter that the older Dumbledore had given her and offered it to the auburn-haired one before her. Quirking an eyebrow in question, the Transfiguration teacher silently asked her to elaborate.

"Please read it, professor. It will explain everything you need to know." She nodded at the letter. "But…please, don't be alarmed by its contents."

Still wary, Dumbledore hesitantly took the letter from her, maintaining eye-contact with Hermione until he had opened the sealed envelope. His face remained blank as his blue eyes darted from side to side, quickly absorbing the contents of the old letter. Only when he reached the end of the parchment did his expression change. Hermione smirked as he jumped back a step, causing his half-moon spectacles to fall to the floor. Hastily picking up and readjusting his glasses, he stared at the still grinning blood stained girl before him.

He took one rigid step back to his desk, where he grabbed his wand. Snarling at this, Hermione pulled her own out, only to find that his attention had left her. Dumbledore had conjured a dark vial, identical in shape to a wine bottle, and placed it on the desk. He then traced the tip of his wand from wrist to elbow on his left arm, leaving a large black line where his wand had touched him. Dumbledore held out his arm over the vase, and tapped the black line with his wand, which made it bleed immediately. .

Although her hunger had been sated by the _Reproba cruor _potion she had taken earlier, the strong scent of blood was so tangible in the air that Hermione had to force herself to remain still and look away. With a shaky hand she stuffed her wand back into her pocket, and squeezed Crookshanks tightly in attempt to focus her attention elsewhere. Unfortunately, she could still hear the slow trickle of blood fall at an agonizing pace into the vase. A few painful minutes later Dumbledore sealed the wound on his arm, and corked the bottle. The red blood that sloshed so invitingly inside was now indistinguishable from red wine, and thankfully the cork blocked its smell. The auburn-haired man tucked it into one of his deep pockets, and returned his gaze to the young woman before him. The palpable tension in the air had faded, leaving only confusion and weariness.

"Miss Levana, that was quite the…unexpected letter, if I do say so myself. Overall, this has been quite an unexpected day." Dumbledore sighed deeply, massaging his left arm. "I never would have expected my morning tea to be interrupted by a vampire bearing a note written by myself."

"Neither would I, sir." Hermione stated sincerely, before asking, "Uh, Professor, why did you just…" she mimed a cutting action with her hand, suddenly feeling very awkward. She began to shuffle her feet again, much like she had done earlier that day. Noting her discomfort, Dumbledore clapped his hands together, startling her to look up, and said,

"Miss Levana, that blood is a rather important ingredient in a potion you should become quite familiar with. Now, seeing as most students would not arrive in this manner, I suggest we keep the finer details of your arrival to ourselves. I sincerely doubt that any of the staff would believe me sane if I claimed a vampire had suddenly manifested herself in my office. After all, no one can-"

"-Apparate in and out of Hogwarts, due to protection barriers." Hermione recited, grinning at the familiar sentence. "I know quite a bit about Hogwarts, sir."

"So it would seem. As I was saying, it would be quite unconventional to introduce you to the staff at this time. It would be a good idea to keep you hidden from them until it is necessary to expose you. To do this, we must use a room that will ensure your security."

"I have a fairly good idea of what you're talking about, professor."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Approximately half an hour later, Hermione found herself lounging on a bed of black satin sheets, absentmindedly watching her cat examine the room. Dumbledore had led her up to the room, using some of the lesser-known school passages to do so. Once they had reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy the Transfiguration teacher had given strict instructions to not leave the room. She had listened attentively as Dumbledore told her that he would return in the early morning on September first, and there after he would take her to the Headmaster's office to meet Armando Dippet.

Dumbledore had warned her that he would need to inform Dippet, who in turn would tell the faculty, of her 'condition'. Hermione had been wary of this, but Dumbledore assured her that she would gain Dippet's sympathy after he told him the reason of her sudden transfer from home school to Hogwarts.

Her old, (or technically future) Headmaster had formulated the story that her parents had been murdered violently by the same vampires who turned her. When she had awoken as a vampire, consumed with grief and new power, she had destroyed her parent's killers. Apparently she would win over Dippet with her great tale of woe, and the fact that she took a potion to remain stable.

How charming.

Shortly after telling her all this, Dumbledore had given her the bottle of blood, and left without telling her how to even enter the room itself. He had evidently taken her word of being knowledgeable about the school to heart.

Hermione, arms now heavy with Crookshanks and Dumbledore's blood, closed her eyes and began to pace. _I need a place to exist in secrecy…I need a place to exist in secrecy…I need a place to exist in secrecy. _

The room which she required was quite simple compared to the elegance she knew the room could produce. There were but a few candles, only enough to leave a vague trace of light around their holders that fastened them to the dark stone wall. This suited both Hermione and Crookshanks fine, much to the formers surprise. But then again, when she thought about it, it should have been obvious that a vampire would be gifted with excellent night vision.

The only other source of light available in the room was a fireplace. Hermione had set it ablaze with a lazy flick of her wand, only to find that the fire's usual bright intensity stung her eyes. Shielding her eyes, Hermione had muttered a quick curse followed by a dimming spell, which immediately mellowed her roaring fire into a much more docile one.

In one corner of the gloomy room was the large bed she was currently relaxing upon. Its sheets matched the mood of the room, black except for a faint glimmer of light upon its silky surface. Running her hands over the glossy sheets, Hermione continued to watch Crookshanks. Her loyal pet was squatted directly in front of the fireplace, his ginger tail swishing from side to side as he studied the hearth. He playfully batted at the shadows of low flames, but hissed and leapt back when a spark landed on his paw. The cat ran over to the other side of the room, where a fine wood table with matching chairs was situated near a grand old bookcase with hundreds of volumes. One of the books was lying open on the table, as it had the instructions on how to create the _Reproba cruor_ potion. Next to it laid said potion, bubbling away in an old cauldron, occasional emitting red and silver vapors.

To Hermione's slight surprise, the potion was very simple to brew. Its main ingredients consisted of: powdered moonstone, crushed lily petals, and fluxweed, all which appeared on the table after she had read the instructions. The only catch ingredient was a single drop of blood from a living person, but fortunately for her Dumbledore had already cleared up that problem.

The potion needed two days to simmer, and after that she had to wait another four days before it was time to take another dose. According to the book, '_a weekly flask full will suffice, but be warned: If the drinker in question should forget to take their weekly potion, they will revert back to their most feral state, where primal instincts reign. In a week's time, the drinker will become feverish, and from this time they will have approximately one hour to consume the __Reproba cruor potion.' _Her old headmaster had already given her the perfect flask for this, which saved Hermione the _excruciating_ pain of asking the room for one.

But now, there was nothing left to do but wait. Hermione had three days to wait in her own luxurious dungeon, a whole world of knowledge at her fingertips. A small, delighted grin appeared on Hermione's lips.

_I can definitely think of worse ways to spend my time._

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Three days later, Hermione sat rigid at the table, pouring through book after book, neatly stacking them in what was now an enormous pile next to her. To her pleasant surprise, with her vampirism she required a very minimal amount of sleep, giving her more time to peruse the room's black hole of a library. Hermione had actually applauded herself when she had made this new discovery. She had unpacked the majority of her personal items, such as her pictures, and placed them on her bed stand. Apart from that, bathing, and summoning mice for Crookshanks, she had done little. And though she read many things over the course of those three days, she found herself continually coming back to _Lore and Fact About the Vampyre. _

It didn't really surprise her at all, for now that most of the book applied to her she was bound to become more interested. The book was lying near her, open to the page with the Sanguini interview. Although they had both attended Slughorn's Christmas party, she had never actually met the infamous vampire. She had been far to busy in her valiant effort to give McLaggen the slip.

"Miss Levana?"

With a startled yelp, Hermione toppled out of her chair and onto the cold stone floor. She jumped quickly to her feet, wide eyed and teeth bared, only to find an amused Dumbledore standing by the doorway. She casually brushed her robes off, and with her nose in the air, strode haughtily over to the professor.

"Hello, sir. I'm assuming that it's time for you to introduce me to Headmaster Dippet?" Hermione said with as much pride as possible.

Deciding to let her less than graceful actions pass without comment, Dumbledore nodded, though unable to keep a small grin appearing as he motioned for the vampire to follow him out of the room.

The two set off at a brisk walk through the dark corridor, pitch black except for what pale hint of predawn came in from the windows. Their journey was a short one, however, as both the room of Requirement and the Headmaster's office resided on the seventh floor. It took a mere five minutes before they were standing in front of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"You will find," Dumbledore began, motioning towards the gargoyle, "that Professor Dippet rarely changes his password. The password he has chosen for this year is _Equilibrium_." The gargoyle sprang aside at the password, giving them access to the spiral staircase that would take them to the Headmaster's office. While waiting for the stairs to take them up, Hermione asked,

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore, are you positive that Dippet won't be perturbed by having me as a student? You said that I would gain his sympathies with my "tragic life's story", but-"

Smiling down at the vampire, Dumbledore merely shook his head. "Any doubts he may have will evaporate the moment he sees you." Smile turned slowly to frown as he mulled over his next words, "Armando, like many other teachers at this school, seems more concerned about appearance and charm than anything else. You, Miss Levana, have the fortune of having both." His frown deepened and his eyes hardened, clearly going into deep thought. His expression didn't change even when the staircase became level with the Headmaster's large oak door.

Hermione took it upon herself to use the griffin shaped knocker and tapped it three times to the polished door. A tired voice called out, "Come in." Turning back to her preoccupied Professor, she asked,

"Well, Sir? Coming?" Hermione's melodic voice seemed to bring Dumbledore back to the now, as he nodded and swept past her to hold open the grand door for her. Thanking him with a small smile, she walked into Armando Dippet's office.

The room seemed larger then she remembered it, probably due to the sincere lack of eccentric gizmos and knick knacks. It appeared that Dippet, who looked to be dozing at his desk, liked a bare, uncluttered environment.

Hermione slowly approached the Headmaster, unsure what to say to get his attention. Dumbledore on the other hand, went right up to Dippet, placed both hands on the enormous desk, and said loudly,

"Armando, Miss Levana is here to see you. I'm sure there will be plenty of time for you to rest before all the other students arrive today." Snorting in his stupor, Dippet whipped his nearly bald head up, and blinked bemusedly for a few seconds, finally focusing in on Dumbledore.

"Merlin, Albus. There's no need to be so loud." He had a frail, somewhat wheezy voice, much different from Dumbledore's confident one. It was obvious that he wasn't in the same league of wizardry as the Transfiguration teacher.

"Armando, may I please introduce you to the newest edition to our student body, Miss Hermione Levana." Moving aside, he gave the older wizard full view of the young vampire.

Dippet gasped, and began to rub his eyes furiously. Hermione cocked her head in confusion at the Headmaster's strange reaction to her, and looked at Dumbledore in question. He had a look of grim satisfaction on his face, and tilted his head towards Dippet, encouraging her to move closer.

The frail old man squinted at her again through red rimmed eyes, and gasped again. With a surprising spryness for his age and tiredness Dippet leapt out from his high backed chair and dashed over to Hermione, whose hand he grasped and began to shake almost violently.

"Wel-welcome, Miss Levana, to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, finest magical establishment in all of Britain, I do hope you find our accommodations to your satisfactions." The ancient old man seemed exuberant at her presence, and seemed to forget that Hogwarts was a school, not a five star hotel.

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad that you don't find my presence burdensome… not many places would take a vampire in." Hermione bowed her head, letting her curls fall over her eyes.

"My dear, please, don't thank me. As Dumbledore tells me you are quite in control of your vampiric, err, _needs_, and that you are an intelligent young woman. So it is really I who should be thanking you for gracing my school with such a responsible young lady." Hermione almost felt almost guilty at the empathy that shown in Dippet's eyes, as she had to bite the inside of her cheek from laughing.

"Once again, thank you Professor. I really don't know where I would go if it wasn't for Hogwarts." Hermione decided that she wanted her hand back, and tired extracting it, but the Headmaster had a tight grip on it. Not wanting to exert more strength, lest she injure him, Hermione used the tactic of diversion. "Pardon me, sir, but Professor Dumbledore briefly mentioned something about school 'houses'? Every student is sorted into one of four, I believe?"

It worked. Dippet dropped her hand immediately, and clasped his two withered ones together.

"Yes! Yes of course! The four houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin." Traditionally, Gryffindor values courage and chivalry, Ravenclaw intellect and wisdom, Hufflepuff honesty and loyalty, and Slytherin ambition and resourcefulness." Hermione noted how he left out blood purity on Slytherin's behalf, but let it slide for obvious reasons.

"Albus, if you please?" Dippet gestured towards the shelf behind his desk, where the sorting hat resided.

"Miss Levana, Hermione, may I call you that?" Hermione nodded slowly, slightly alarmed at how happy the man was at this. "You will be sorted into the house which suits yourself best, and this will be done by the sorting hat." Dumbledore came over, carefully holding the ancient hat in both hands, and placed it gently on her head.

"_Now, this is fascinating. In all my years of sorting students, never have I come across a vampire before. No human has even attempted getting an education here after being turned. How very fascinating. And you're not just a vampire, are you? You have a secret much more dangerous than a pair of fangs, don't you?"_

_Yes, one could say that it defies time itself._

"_Clever creature you are, Miss Levana. You are obviously brave, as well, for it is not the average student that could hold their head high while guarding terrible secrets. Very brave, indeed. I have the sense that that courage was a deciding factor on something of great importance in your life."_

_Yes. As a matter of fact, it was you who made that decision._

"_Indeed. I had the peculiar feeling that we have crossed paths before, but I cannot say that I have seen your mind before, and I never forget a student."_

_We have met before, but not yet._

"_Hmm. Very interesting. It was very hard to leave your friends, wasn't it?"_

_I had to._

"_Yes you did. But it doesn't make the heart heal any faster knowing that, does it?"_

_No. I had a whole life ahead of me, but that was snatched away the moment Cassius bit me._

"_Cassius? This was the vampire who turned you?"_

_You might as well say that. The whole truth of the incident I do not even understand. All that is certain, the person who paid him to turn me is a wretched excuse for a wizard. That dark wizard has destroyed countless homes and families, including that of my best friend. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen._

The hat was silent for a few moments, as though it had gone into deep thought. When its voice came back into Hermione's mind it sounded much more cogitative than it had before.

"_You are truly a remarkable being, Miss Levana. One that holds insight and extraordinary intellect. Therefore, while you may have elements from all the houses, I choose…"_

"RAVENCLAW!" The hat shouted loudly. Hermione carefully pulled the hat off and handed it back to Dumbledore.

_Well, the sorting hat did nearly put me in Ravenclaw my first year_, Hermione thought, overall rather pleased with the hat's decision.

"Excellent!" Dippet nearly yelled himself, beaming as though he had never smiled before. "Professor Worple, our Defense against the Dark Arts teacher and head of Ravenclaw will be so pleased to find out that he has you as a student! The man is extremely interested in vampires; you should have seen how excited he was when I informed the staff of our new student!" Hermione's smile faltered a little, she had almost forgotten that the entire staff knew of her vampirism.

Seeing her less than pleased expression, Dippet patted her hand. "There is no need to worry Hermione, no need at all. All of them are sworn to secrecy, or else I will dismiss them from this school." Hermione sighed, very relieved.

"Now, Hermione, I am going to give you a very special privilege to you, one that I reserve the right to only the prefects and Head Boy and Girl. I am giving you free reign over this school, you may travel anywhere in this school at anytime, and have access to the restricted Section of our school library." Hermione's grin now nearly matched Dippet's in excitement. "But in order to keep your identity secret I suggest staying away from the commonly patrolled hallways at night. As I have already informed the staff of this, they will not deduct house points or give you punishment if they find you out of your dormitory after hours." Hermione's grin was so great now that her sharp canine teeth were clearly visible. Dippet caught site of them, and stopped talking, eyeing them with apprehension.

"I trust I don't need to tell you that feeding on any residents of this school is forbidden?" He said slowly, suddenly not so eager to be near the vampire.

"Of course, sir. The idea of doing so disgusts even me. And don't forget, I brew a weekly _Reproba cruor _potion that stops me from wanting blood." _Well, not entirely true, but at least I won't go on a killing rampage._

Dippet's mood changed right back to how he had been before noticing her fangs. "I wouldn't have thought you would do such a thing either, Hermione. Like Dumbledore here told me, you seem like quite the responsible young woman." She rolled her eyes at Dumbledore, who winked in return.

"Albus, it is to my knowledge that you have some way of getting Hermione onto the train without being noticed?" Dippet actually turned away from Hermione, giving the Transfiguration teacher his whole attention.

"Yes, I do, but in order for it to work I must escort Miss Levana out to Hogsmeade now, before the sun rises too high." Dumbledore motioned towards the large windows behind the Headmaster's desk, indicating that they only had a half an hour or so before the sun had fully risen. Dippet nodded in ascent, and then turned back to Hermione.

"Hermione, as you will find all your new Ravenclaw accessories in your dormitory, which you will be led to after the feast tonight. Just follow the prefects, and you'll be fine. Farewell now, it was a true pleasure to meet you!" Dippet shook her hand once more, before Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder and escorted her out of the office.

"I think that went rather well, don't you Professor?" Hermione sarcastically said to Dumbledore.

"My predictions were correct. Armando Dippet was completely charmed by you. Undoubtedly, you'll be his favorite student within a few days." Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling.

"Professor, how exactly are we going to get down to the train station?" Hermione asked, more somberly than before, noticing from a window that the sun was higher than it looked from the Headmaster's office.

"Yesterday, I had a conversation with the innkeeper of a small pub down in Hogsmeade. I'm assuming you've heard of the Hog's Head?" When she nodded, he continued, "It just so happens that he is willing to let you use a portrait in his bar as transportation to the room of requirement and back." Slightly stunned at this, Hermione tentatively queried,

"And will I be allowed to use this passageway whenever I need to?"

Dumbledore stopped walking, and turned to make eye contact with her.

"Miss Levana, you are a vampire." Something in the way he said this made Hermione feel slightly offended, but she let him continue. "A very young vampire too, if I am not mistaken. As such a creature you will need to experiment with your new powers, and it is not in my place to deter such a thing, as it is only natural."

They continued walking in silence, even after Hermione made the room of requirement appear. Once in the room, she grabbed a sleeping Crookshanks, who meowed in displeasure and tried to disentangle himself from her vice like grip.

"Crookshanks, hold still. You'll have plenty of time to sleep on the train ride." She whispered angrily at the cat, tilting her head back to avoid his claws. Dumbledore waited patiently on the other side of the room, staring at the stone wall. A moment later, a large portrait appeared with a small girl standing in the middle.

"You may will this portrait to appear at anytime, simply ask the room for Ariana." The girl in the portrait smiled, and waved her hand at Dumbledore, who waved back.

"Let's be on our way then, Miss Levana." Dumbledore held out his hand to Hermione, which she took with the hand that wasn't holding a snarling half-kneazle.

The pair stepped into the portrait and made their way down a long, dark passageway. Near the end Hermione could make out what looked like a shabby room. Stepping out of the painting Hermione found herself sniffing the dusty air. The room smelled vaguely of goats and fire whiskey, along with a scent that vaguely resembled that of Dumbledore's. She was too busy smelling the room to realize that another had entered the room.

Dumbledore greeted the man with a stiff handshake, than called out to the preoccupied vampire.

"Hermione Levana, meet Aberforth." Turning sharply towards the man, Hermione immediately recognized him as the same barman some fifty years in the future, although his hair was now brown opposed to gray. Aberforth opened his eyes in shock at the site of Hermione, and quickly muttered to Dumbledore,

"Albus, she is _definitely_ going to draw attention to this place if she comes here. How often do you see a woman like that just walking around-"

"Aberforth, as I informed you before that Miss Levana is a vampire, and along with superior stealth, she has impeccable hearing." Dumbledore said dryly, pointing out that Hermione heard everything that Aberforth had just whispered to him.

"All the same Albus, people will wonder why they keep seeing a student, an unnaturally attractive one at that, here at different hours of the night. I suggest you find a different way of letting the vampire roam." Hermione hissed very lowly at this, she did not at all appreciate being called 'the vampire.' Crookshanks, sensing his mistress was angry, hissed at him as well.

Aberforth rolled his shoulders back, and put his arms akimbo. He glared at Dumbledore for a moment, before reluctantly meeting Hermione's gaze. She squinted in anger, and sniffed the air again. Eyes widening, she looked at the pair for a moment before stating,

"I'm sure siblings such as yourselves can figure this out without having such a childish argument." Aberforth looked stunned for a moment, before turning back to his brother,

"Did you tell her?"

"I assure you that I did not. Hermione is a perceptive young woman, very capable of handling herself. As I said before, she will not be a distraction. Most of your customers here wear clocks, do they not? Why should they pay any special attention to her if she does the same?" Dumbledore seemed to be winning the argument, as Aberforth finally sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Alright, Albus I'll let her use the portrait. But if she makes a scene-"

"I won't sir." Aberforth seemed surprised that she had talked to him directly, even more so when she sent him a disarming smile. He tentatively smiled back at her, and relaxed his figure.

"Thank you Aberforth. Now, if you don't mind, I need to prepare a sunless compartment for Miss Levana here. I will be right back." And with that, Dumbledore Disapparated with a loud 'pop', leaving vampire and brother alone.

"So, I don't suppose there is anything I could offer you to drink? I don't get that many vampires in here, so I'm not that familiar with their habits, but if you would like something..." Surprised but none the less pleased with his politeness, she nodded.

"For vampires, human food and drink are not necessary, but I don't see a problem with treating myself to a butterbeer. Oh, and if it's not too much trouble, could Crookshanks have a bowl of milk?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dumbledore Apparated back ten minutes later, and was dumbfounded to see his brother getting on so well with Hermione. She was sitting at the bar, sipping at a butterbeer, while listening to a story that Aberforth was telling her. Crookshanks was sitting on the counter top, happily licking away at a bowl of milk.

"So here I was, minding my own business at the counter, when in walks this man with burn marks all over his face-"

"Sorry to cut you off once again Aberforth, but I must show Hermione to her compartment now, before other students might take it." Hermione put her butterbeer down, and took out a few galleons to pay for her drink.

"Oh no, it's on me. I have enough of these to last a few years without restocking." Aberforth said cheerfully, acting much more animated and happy than Dumbledore had seen him in a long time.

"Thank you. Perhaps we can have a drink some other time?" Hermione asked with sincerity, picking up her now content cat.

"Certainly! But for now, you have to catch that train. Have a wonderful day, Hermione!" The vampire waved at Aberforth as Dumbledore lightly grabbed Hermione's wrist.

_Why can't wizards make a system of transportation that is more comfortable?_ Hermione wondered as she suffered through a few moments of Apparition pressure.

They had Apparated to a compartment that had long, dark drapes over the window and door. One side of the stall had a cushy looking couch, the other bare except for a single torch.

"This compartment is at the very end of the train, but just in case any students wander down here, the door is locked from the inside, and will only unlock the instant the train stops." Dumbledore informed Hermione, while glancing at his watch.

"It is nearly 11 o'clock, and I must return to the castle now. Is there anything you need before I leave?" Seeing her shake her head, he said,

"Goodbye then, Hermione. Remember, if there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask." After he had left, Hermione let herself fall into the seat.

For a while she remained there, stroking Crookshanks into a soothing purr, listening to all the trivial conversations coming from the compartments surrounding her.

"I'm not at all surprised that he made Head boy," came a high pitched female's voice from the room on her right. "He's _so _smart, witty, charming, -"

"-and let's' not forget absolutely gorgeous." Praised a female with a lower, more velvety voice than the other. "I'm so glad that _I_ get to be Head girl. No other girl would look nearly as good standing next to him as I will."

"You are so lucky, Sophie. Every girl in this school would kill to be in your place." The other one whispered, awe and envy clearly visible in her voice.

The one named Sophie gave a tinkling laugh that probably would have been pleasant to anyone else, but to Hermione's sensitive ears it was too harsh.

"Oh, I know, Betty, I know. But none of them could pull off being at his side like I can, so they'll just have to sit back and let me work my magic." Both girls laughed at this, nearly driving Hermione into insanity. Thoroughly annoyed, she aimed a well placed 'Silencio' at the door, which blocked out their meaningless chatter.

_I guess there's some in every generation, _Hermione thought grouchily, her ears still ringing from Sophie's laugh. But, thankfully, her spell had done the trick and all was quiet in her compartment.

After a long while, Hermione felt the train slow down. Getting up, she stretched, noticing for the first time that she was several inches taller than she had been yesterday.

While examining her new body proportions, Hermione heard the 'click' that signified the complete halt of the train. Hermione waited a few minutes, waiting for her delightful neighbors to leave the hallway before she left her room.

She picked up Crookshanks, and quickly made her way out of the hallway, and before she knew it, she was facing a swarm of students at the train station.

The students acted no different than they did in her era, the main difference being that of hairstyles. Being hypersensitive as she was now, though, she did not enjoy watching any tearful reunions between students. They were just so loud! Alarmed from all the noises, smells and people, Hermione ducked her head and held her cat close, and quickly made her way through the hoard of students, none of whom paid any attention to her.

Hermione sighed in relief as she exited the crowd of students, but was less relieved when she finally brought her head up to look for an empty horseless carriage.

She could now see the thestrals.

"But I haven't seen death…"_But I have died…_

Shuddering, more uncomfortable with herself in that moment than she had ever been before, she took the nearest carriage, and nickered for the skeletal creature to go ahead without any more passengers. The thestral acted as though it understood her discomfort, and trotted back towards the castle, ignoring the calls from other students to slow down.

Hermione jumped out of her carriage before it had stopped moving, anxious to go inside. But before making her way into the castle, she turned back to the thestral. Walking up to it, she looked it directly in its shining white eyes.

"Thank you." She whispered, placing one hand on the creature's muzzle, patting it once. The thestral closed its own eyes and neighed peacefully in response, before leaving to collect more students.

Once inside the entrance hall, Hermione bent down and let Crookshanks go. She had complete confidence that the cat could look after himself for the time being. Standing up, she flipped her hair back, for the first time letting her face be completely unhidden by her curls.

Walking with as much confidence as she could muster, Hermione gracefully made her way to the great hall, walking past a fair number of gawking male students as she did so. Hermione entered the great hall, pausing for a few moments to find the Ravenclaw table. It was located between the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables, its banner of blue and bronze unmistakable from behind the staff table.

Hermione sat at the edge of the table, putting her head in her hand and closing her eyes, trying to block out the growing commotion that soon surrounded her. She registered when the sorting of the first years began, and watched with half-interest as the youngest of the students ran off to their respective tables. Hermione observed a few of their faces when the food appeared on the table, some were in awe, some indifferent.

_This reminds me of my first night at Hogwarts. _Hermione thought nostalgically, fully prepared to lose her self in memories for the rest of the feast.

"Hello! I haven't seen you here before! My name's Benjamin White, 7th year, captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team and prefect. What's your name?" Clearly, fate had other ideas.

Turning to face the boy with slicked back brown hair who had interrupted her reminiscing, Hermione responded in her smoothest of tones,

"Hermione Levana, 7th year, I transferred here from home schooling." Benjamin proved his surname proud when he saw her face, for that was the color his own turned. His jaw dropped, and he choked on his pumpkin juice.

As a matter of fact, there were more than a few gasps from the students sitting around her. The girls sitting near here gave her a once over, then rolled their eyes and evaded eye contact. Some of the males pulled a Benjamin, a few whistled.

Very annoyed and somewhat embarrassed, Hermione looked down into her plate, tracing the patterns on it with her fingers. After a few minutes, Benjamin regained his voice, and stammered out,

"So you-you are new here? Do you need someone to show you around the castle?" His face had turned from white to pink within a second, and Hermione wasn't entirely sure that was healthy.

"Well, I planned on following a prefect up to the dormitories, but apart from that, I think I have a fair understanding of the castle. Thank you for the offer though, Benjamin." He had a ridiculous grin engraved on his face for the rest of the meal after that.

The rest of the meal past without too much happening, a few Ravenclaws kept looking at her and whispering, but that was about it. At the end of the feast, Benjamin stood up pompously, and addressed her in the most absurdly formal voice she had ever heard.

"Follow me, Hermione. I shall escort you to fair Ravenclaw's dormitory." He puffed out his chest, and held out his hand arm Hermione. Hermione just rolled her eyes and walked past him, and reminded Benjamin that he had to show the first years the way as well. He blushed again, and called out to the frightened first years.

Ravenclaw tower was located up a long marble stairway on the west end of the castle. Curiously, a password was not necessary to enter; rather a bronze eagle knocker asked you a riddle.

"What has great value, begs to be shared, but once it has been it is no more?" The eagle asked Benjamin.

"Well?" he asked, addressing the first years, "Does anyone know the answer? One must answer a question in order to enter the dormitory. If you get the question wrong, you'll have to wait until someone who knows the answer comes along." The first years were literally shaking in their robes now, and Hermione took pity on them.

"That would be a secret." Hermione said to the knocker, which nodded and opened. Ignoring whatever it was that Benjamin was saying now, Hermione entered her new dormitory.

The Ravenclaw common room was large and airy with a grand fireplace, overall much less cramped than the Gryffindor common room. Looking up, Hermione smiled at the realistic stars painted on the ceiling. It made a vampire feel at home.

Hermione drifted past the large statue of Rowena, and up to her room. While the common room had been different from her old Gryffindor one, the rooms were identical, except for the décor was in bronze and blue, instead of scarlet and gold.

There were three beds, one of which had only a few Ravenclaw colored clothes and a letter on it. Walking over to the bed, Hermione put on the Ravenclaw crest pin she found there, neatly put the clothes in the trunk of her bed, and opened the letter.

_Dear Ms. Levana,_

_Below is your course schedule. These are normally handed out at Breakfast tomorrow morning, but I had a hunch you would prefer to receive yours while the moon was out. _

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Albus Dumbledore,_

_Deputy Headmaster_

Giving the schedule a once over, she discovered she had double Defense against the Dark arts with Professor Worple first thing on Monday, and had all weekend to get her supplies for the classes.

_Not a problem, I just 'require' a few books. _

About a half an hour later her two roommates arrived, gossiping about something or another, and once noticing Hermione they virtually ignored her, identifying her as 'the new girl.'

Hermione patiently sat on her bed, waiting for the two girls to fall asleep. It took them nearly an hour to settle down, and another half an hour to finally fall asleep. When their breathing finally evened out, Hermione silently swept out of the room and glided down the stairs to the common room.

The room was completely deserted; all the students had obviously headed to bed fro a good night's sleep. This made her task of sneaking out of her dormitory and into the room of requirement much less difficult.

The hallways of Hogwarts were pitch black, not even the torches burned at such an hour of night. Hermione was fine with this, as she could see perfectly well in the dark, an obvious trait of her vampirism.

Hermione found Crookshanks waiting at the feet of Barnabas the Barmy, tail twitching impatiently.

"You prefer it away from everyone else too, don't you Crookshanks?" Hermione cooed to the cat, scratching him between the ears. The cat arched his back in pleasure, a deep purr rumbling from within his chest. Hermione picked him up and began to pace, thinking exactly what she had before.

_I need a place to exist in secrecy…I need a place to exist in secrecy…I need a place to exist in secrecy. _

The vampire hummed in satisfaction as she entered her room, feeling much more at home here then she did in her common room. Hermione asked the room for a pillow for Crookshanks, and a second later laid down the cat on a fluffy white pillow at her feet.

Hermione drifted over to her luxurious bed, deciding that she ought to get at least a few hours of sleep that week. With a wave of her wand, Hermione transformed her robes into a silken nightgown, one that felt good against her cool skin. Hermione tucked herself into the plush bed, falling asleep much quicker than she would have anticipated.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Meow!"

Hermione grumbled and pulled her pillow over her head.

"Quiet, Crookshanks! I've only been asleep for a few minutes."

"Meow!"

Frustrated, but awake, Hermione blearily opened her eyes to find that Crookshanks was sitting at the edge of her bed, watching her expectantly. Hermione sighed, but retrieved her wand from the nightstand and summoned a few mice for Crookshanks to eat.

"Damn cat…I wonder how many minutes I was asleep before he woke me up." As she spoke, a small silver pocket watch appeared in her hand. Hermione glanced at it, expecting it to be thirty minutes at the most, but was so surprised by the actual time that she nearly dropped the watch.

"I can't have been asleep…that's impossible! I can't have needed_ that_ much sleep, could I?" Completely baffled with herself, Hermione began to pace.

"Twenty four hours! Merlin, the book said that vampires needed very little sleep…" Hermione rushed over to the table with the book in question, and hastily reread the section.

"Sleep, sleep…ah, here it is. '_Very minimal sleep is required for a vampire's day-to-day routine, but the longer that the vampire does not sleep, the longer they will when they finally do.'_ Oh. It was there all along." Embarrassed with herself, Hermione put the book back down next to the _Reproba cruor_ potion instructions.

"Well, since it is technically Sunday now, I should be taking that potion now, before I go on a killing rampage." Chuckling at her own humor for a moment before realizing the morbidity of the statement, Hermione shook her head at her own behavior and reached for her ebony flask.

Trying not to think how much better the bottle of blood Dumbledore had given her would taste, Hermione filled her flask up with the potion, and drank it all in one swig. Hermione had made enough of the potion to last for a month, so she once found herself full of time to peruse all the books she wanted. But, alas, all good things must come to an end, and before Hermione knew it, it was time for her to start her seventh year.

_A week ago I was jumping up and down with joy, knowing that school was just around the corner. At least today it's cloudy, it makes traveling so much easier._

Hermione was scrutinizing her schedule, walking slowly through a crowd of people on the fourth floor. For the first time in her life regarding school, she was completely lost. The Defense Against the Dark Arts room…

"Is not in the same place! Really Hermione, you should have known better. The last time you've been there was oh, some fifty years in the future. Class rooms are bound to change their location." Muttering angrily to herself, Hermione stuffed her schedule back into her book bag.

"May I help you Miss?" A masculine voice of low silk asked her. Hermione pricked up her ears at the sound, and gratefully turned to the asker.

"That would be fantastic, if you don't mind, of-" Hermione stopped short of finishing her sentence, for as soon as she saw who it was Hermione lost all ability to speak. By the tenor of his voice she had assumed that the male who had offered her his assistance was either an older student or teacher, but certainly not the head boy himself.

Certainly not Tom Riddle.

"I would not mind in the slightest, Miss…?" His eyes, dark as the forbidden forest, searched her face and frame, trying to identify her. "I never forget a face, and I'm positive you aren't a first year." He smiled and brought out his hand while saying that, giving her a body an appreciative look over.

This didn't encourage Hermione's vocal cords to start working again, and she was torn somewhere in between flattery from being complimented by a handsome man, and extreme distress that it was the future Lord Voldemort doing so. After a few moments of staring, she remembered her manners and placed her hand delicately into his.

"Levana, Hermione." Hermione thought it would be a nice effort on he part to smile back. To her great surprise, Tom raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles, never breaking eye contact with her while he did so. A shiver ran down Hermione's spine, and not an altogether unpleasant one. "And no, I am most definitely not a first year. I decided to come to Hogwarts for my final year of schooling, rather than stay at home and learn from my parents. May I ask your name?" She politely asked, figuring it would be odd not to ask.

"Riddle, Tom. Head boy of Hogwarts." He indicated his badge, acting somewhat nonchalant about it. "It's my job to look for lost looking students and escort them to class."

"That must be an exhilarating hobby." Hermione deadpanned, smirking a little.

"Up until now, it was the very opposite." His words were soft, and he spoke them like he would a secret. Hermione felt a brief brush on her hand, and found that Tom was still holding her hand. She gently tugged it free.

"Not to be rude or anything, but I really do need to find the Defense Against the Dark Arts room." Instead of looking annoyed or crestfallen as she had suspected he might, Tom Riddle's eyes lit up.

"Brilliant. I have the same class." Tom offered Hermione his arm, which she took out of courtesy.

_My first day of Seventh year, and I'm being escorted to class by a flirtatious future Dark Lord. _


	10. Two Can Dance the Masquerade

_Disclaimer- I own nothing you recognize._

_

* * *

_**Chapter 10**

**Two Can Dance the Masquerade**

"You weren't at the sorting either." His dark green eyes narrowed slightly as he looked sideways at Hermione. "Where were you?"

"I was sitting at my house table, Ravenclaw. My parents went to a meeting to discuss the details of my transfer over the summer holiday, and thought it would be best for me to be sorted then." Hermione inwardly congratulated herself for her quick thinking.

"Ravenclaw, eh?" Tom glanced down at her pin and nodded in approval. "That's respectable enough, though if you don't mind me saying, Slytherin is by far the best house." He smiled teasingly at Hermione, who replied,

"That would be your house then, I take it?" Tom nodded, his smirk never disappearing. Hermione scoffed and held back an eye roll. "Of course, only the best for Tom Riddle."

Once again, Tom's eyes lazily swept over Hermione's svelte body, meeting her reproachable gaze with an even wider grin than before.

"I wouldn't take anything less." Hermione raised an eyebrow at his obvious implication, but otherwise ignored it.

_No, you really wouldn't…_the vampiress thought, fully aware of how possessively the Head Boy was holding her arm. Many ogling male students passed them, most of whom looked eager to approach the beautiful new student. This would start a pattern. Each time a male did look at her; Tom Riddle would tighten his grip on Hermione's arm ever so slightly and give each male a smug look. This would send them shuffling away, disappointed. It seemed that even at this age Tom Riddle's will had command over many.

Hermione was growing increasingly irate at Tom's blatant show of ownership, and was supremely pleased when an opportunity to rid herself of his grasp presented itself.

A trio of sixth year boys walked past them, all of them nearly drooling at the site of Hermione. Two of them were talking loudly amongst themselves, loudly enough so Hermione need not have her vampire ears to hear them.

"Who's the girl Riddle's walking with?" a short, bespeckled boy inquired, nudging a freckly friend.

"Ben said something about the new girl being a knockout, reckon' that's her?" The freckled one said, turning to face the third boy in the group, who was the tallest and most composed. This boy, who up until now had been eyeing Hermione, finally spoke.

"That has to be her. I've never seen a girl like that before." His gaze traveled to that of Tom Riddle, and his smile morphed into that of a spiteful sneer. "However, our dear Head Boy wouldn't just let any girl be on his arm, he'd have to be getting something in return." The other two boys agreed, those this did little to quell their longing stares. The tall one laughed and sent one last leer at Hermione, tossing with it,

"She must be a tart."

Hermione, disgusted by his comment, ripped her arm away from Tom's and turned to face the boys. Glaring at each with obvious repugnance, Hermione put her hands on her hips and growled,

"Pardon me, but you all must have me _confused_ with someone else, I can assure you that I am no one's tart!" All of the boys seemed dumbfounded that she had actually heard them, much less turn and yell at them. The freckled one even had his mouth open in disbelief.

"We-we-we're sorry!" Stammered the short one with glasses. "We didn't think you'd hear us!"

"Excuse me? You were talking loud enough so that someone on the other end of the corridor could hear!" Hermione seethed, unaware in her fury that she was drawing in a fair amount of onlookers. The three boys had turned quite pale, and were slowly backing away from the vexed siren before them.

"Well, they certainly can hear now."Tom agreed, somewhat amused at the whole situation. He, unlike Hermione, was perfectly aware of the growing crowd, and despite his own delight and watching the scene before him unfold, he knew that he had to take matters into his own hands before things got out of control. After all, he was the Head Boy. Moving to Hermione, he placed a calming hand on her arm, which, unbeknownst to him, only incensed her further.

"Septimus Weasley, I'm surprised at you," Tom took on a false air of disappointment, turning to prey upon the freckled boy first. "Hermione Levana here happens to be in your own house, I would have expected better courtesy from a housemate." He unintentionally received Hermione's attention with this comment. Hermione lost most of her anger in her surprise, and took a closer look at Septimus' robes. He was indeed a Ravenclaw.

_Apparently Ron didn't study his Family's history too closely. _Hermione smiled a little at this, what anger she had left deflating immediately at the memory of her lank friend.

Septimus blushed beet red and suddenly became very interested in the pattern on his shoes, thoroughly put in his place by the intimidating Tom Riddle.

"And you two, I'm ashamed to call you fellow Slytherin's. Eldred-"The short one looked very nervous at being addressed personally by Tom Riddle, "you'd do well to behave better in a school where your own father is teaching. As a matter of fact, we were just on our way to Professor's Worple's class, weren't we Hermione?" Hermione felt some of her anger flare up again at Tom Riddle's casual use of her name, but turned the anger towards that of poor Eldred Worple instead.

"Yes, we were, _Tom_." Hermione agreed, putting slight emphasis on her escort's name. "I don't think that the Professor would be very pleased at all to hear about this."

"Not at all." Tom agreed, shaking his head mournfully before addressing the last boy. This last boy, unlike his two cohorts, He stood his ground, giving off the impression that he wasn't completely afraid of Tom Riddle, though one could tell he was still wary.

"As for you, Ulysses, I'll deal with you later." Dangerous promise glinted in Tom Riddle's eyes, and Hermione saw the boy named Ulysses visibly gulp. "Let's go, Hermione. No use in dealing with these cretins for a moment longer." He once again held out his arm to Hermione, who once again took it. _Damn. _She gave the trio one last glare for good measure before allowing herself to be lead away.

"I'm terribly sorry about all that." Tom said to her once they were out of earshot of the boys. "But you'll have to excuse them. They aren't intelligent enough to behave any better." Hermione nodded her head in ascent, having come to this conclusion by herself.

"I know better than to take the words of adolescent boy's to heart, believe me. It's just that…" Hermione shook her head in frustration, and continued, "I'm appalled that anyone would behave that way. The least they could do is disguise their true feelings by keeping their mouth's shut."

"There are few people who will exhibit that courtesy to you, especially since you're already causing quite a stir in the gossip mill." Tom replied, smirking a little. "And I can say with absolute certainty that your tongue lashing of Septimus Weasley, Eldred Worple, and Ulysses Greengrass will have circulated the entire castle by supper time." Hermione moaned loudly, which just made Tom even smugger.

"Relax, Hermione." At the sound of her name being uttered from his murderous lips Hermione stiffened. Tom, taking note of it, decided to play the gentlemen yet again.

"Is it alright if I call you by your given name? It's generally a habit of mine to call my friends by their given names." _Tricky Bastard. Friends __indeed…_

"So long as I may call you Tom, that is. It's only fair." As the vampiress had expected, the devil's mockery of smile just expanded.

"Hearing you speak my name is more enchanting than a Veela's song." Tom gave her a cheery wink, completely aware of how outrageous his compliment sounded.

Hermione couldn't help herself. His atrocious endearment was so utterly ridiculous; she had no hope of attempting to stop herself from bursting into laughter. She wrenched her arm away from Tom's yet again, though this time it was an attempt to stifle her loud laughter, those this technique proved ineffective.

The newly made Ravenclaw was now nearly tipsy from all the laughter, as she needed no breath there was no reason for her uncontrollable laughter to subside. While Hermione was trying her best to regulate her 'breathing', she failed to notice the temporary lapse of Tom's smirk and a strange glimmer of desire and malevolence in his eyes as he watched her. But it was only for a moment before Tom Riddle put his pompous smile back in place, leaving no trace of his true emotions.

Finally, able tone done her laughter into an occasional chortle, Hermione looked up at Tom, who looked thoroughly pleased with himself, and sassed,

"Are you this amorous to all the girls you meet, _Mister _Riddle?" Hermione gave him a coy half smile, and knew he had bought it instantly when his smirk grew even cockier.

"Only to the pretty ones, _Miss_ Levana." Hermione snickered once more before regaining her composure.

"Getting back to the point at hand, how far exactly is it until we reach the classroom?" She asked curiously.

"Just around the corner, actually. It's on the third floor corridor." And, sure enough, there it was. Once inside, Hermione noted that the room had a more gothic atmosphere than it had ever had with any of her previous Professors. It was full of medieval artifacts that looked to be straight out of a muggle horror movieand all the curtains were drawn to give the room a would be eerie feeling. However, the room's potential dark effect was lost on Hermione, as there was an oddly large amount of talking students in the room.

"Important thing to know about Professor Worple-"Tom pulled out a chair near in the front of the classroom and nodded to Hermione to take it, seating himself in the chair left of hers. "He has a strange obsession with vampires and anything that could be related to them." Tom grimaced slightly, turning to the curtain covered window. "He's gotten worse this year. All the same, he's competent enough, and head of Ravenclaw, so he'll love you." Tom leaned back in his chair, and began to observe the gregarious behavior of his fellow classmates with a small sneer.

"Why are there so many people in here?" Hermione queried, she had never seen this amount of people in a Defense Against the Dark Arts class before.

"Oh?" The Head Boy's attention snapped back to the witch on his right. "The staff here at Hogwarts are more lax of us Seventh years, and don't seem to mind if those with a free period come to socialize. This year the Slytherin's and Ravenclaws are paired mostly together, so we don't have to deal with those obnoxious Gryffindors as much." Hermione stiffened in her seat. It was second nature for her to defend her old house, particularly against the King of Serpents.

"Certainly not all the Gryffindors are that bad, are they?" Hermione questioned in her most curious of voices, determined to keep her anger below the surface. Tom shrugged.

"Most likely not, no." Hermione would not have been surprised if her jaw had dropped. Never, not even in her wildest imagination, had she expected the future Lord Voldemort to say something remotely…dare she say it, fair.

"However, all of the Gryffindors that I have dealt with on a regular basis, the Seventh year ones, have all been the pinnacle of unpleasantness. There are two of them over there." Tom nodded his head towards a blonde girl and another with short brown hair, both of whom were standing a few desks away with their backs to Hermione. The blonde was talking to a Ravenclaw girl with two long black braids, which Hermione recognized as one of the girls who had ignored her the previous night in the dormitory.

"The blonde's name is Sophie Althof. She's a pure blood, wealthy, popular, vain, and Head Girl to boot." Tom gave Hermione another lavish smirk. "She also hates anyone that's remotely pretty, typical for most girls of our age, if I'm not much mistaken." Hermione sighed, but had to agree that that was indeed true.

"Her "best friend" is the girl with the short hair. Her name is Betty Rivera, and is all the things her deity Sophie is, though one begins to wonder why she was placed in Gryffindor. She would be helpless without Sophie, mostly because her intelligence level is lower than that of a Flobberworm." Hermione tittered a little at that. She wasn't too concerned about the ignorant; she had dealt with those kinds of people her entire life.

"And last and perhaps least is Elsie Granger." The vampire understandably perked up at the mention of her 'former' last name. "Elsie's a muggle-born from Germany, and if I recall correctly her parents fled to England because of that Muggle dictator, Hitler. Sophie really only lets her stick around because she'll do all their homework." Tom's lip curled into an unpleasant scowl. "She has no pride." He looked back at Hermione and patted her on the back. "I'm sorry that you have her as a housemate, you'd best hone your skills at ignoring your peers, and it'll save you many headaches."

Little did the Tom Riddle know, Hermione was already putting that particular skill into practice.

_Interesting! I never knew that there was ever another Granger at Hogwarts. Even after that time I went back and read a list of students in the same graduating class as Tom Marvolo Riddle…Merlin's pants, Hermione! I really had nothing better to do that year, didn't I? Well, I might have, but someone had to go and summon a basilisk…_Hermione glared daggers at Tom who wasn't paying any attention to her at the moment. He was busy observing his fellow students in their natural habitat.

"No…" Tom suddenly groaned. "Granger, don't tell Sophie…no…Granger, why must you continue to torment me?" He groaned again, and for the second time that day Hermione was taken aback at his unlikely human tendencies. Who knew that Tom Riddle would grumble about such a trivial matter? Sure enough though, he was right. The girl named Elsie had seen Tom and nudged Sophie, who turned to look at Tom, smiled, and began to walk towards them.

If Hermione had any breath, she was positive she would have gasped.

Sophie Althof was beautiful. Her skin was the color of crème and completely unblemished, and she had a charming blush on her cheeks. Bright blue eyes and elegant arched eyebrows completed her lovely face, which was framed with shimmering golden locks that fell to her shoulders in an unnaturally perfect wave. Sophie must have known she had an irresistible face, for she kept it unobscured by tying her bangs back with a fine red ribbon.

Sophie sashayed right up to Tom Riddle's desk, and boldly sat on its corner, crossing her legs so that her robe slipped a little to reveal a glimpse of shapely legs.

"Hello, Tom." She cooed. "How was your summer?"

"Insufferable. And yours?" Tom asked politely, putting on his gentlemen's demeanor.

"Terribly drab, I'm afraid. It did perk up a bit when I received this, though." Sophie fiddled with her head girl badge, which she had conveniently placed right over her left breast. Hermione was seriously thinking of telling Ulysses Greengrass that she had found the true tart.

"Congratulations, Sophie." Hermione could see that he was literally biting his tongue to keep back a snarky remark. "Have you met Hermione yet? I'm sure the two of you would get along famously." _This is the reason why I hate you, Tom Riddle._

Sophie tossed her golden hair over her shoulder and slide a little further onto the desk. A tiny frown appeared at the corner of her mouth as she saw that Tom's new acquaintance wasn't just any ordinary looking girl. Hermione, tired of the awkward silence that had overcome them at Sophie's evaluation, held her hand out to the blonde.

"My names Hermione Levana, pleasure to meet you Sophie….?" Best to pretend like Tom hadn't given her the quick quotes on her. She gave Sophie a smile and stretched her hand out even further. Sophie raised one fine eyebrow and gave Hermione a calculating look before daintily accepting Hermione's hand. After a brief moment she released Hermione's hand and placed hers right in front of Tom Riddle.

"So you're the new girl the whole school's been buzzing about. I'm so glad I finally got the chance to meet you." _And she sure sounds like she means it, _Hermione thought acidly.

"Why did you decide to come here?" Sophie wondered, and although the question was ordinary enough, the way Sophie said it implied that she wished Hermione hadn't.

"Well, my parents thought it'd be good for me to have a real school experience instead of just buying the books and having me memorize them." Hermione chuckled slightly. Her parents didn't make her memorize the books, she did because she liked to.

"You're a pure-blood, then?" Sophie remarked, drumming her nails upon the desk. Tom, who had leaned back in his chair, abruptly brought it forward again. The clatter startled both the girls, and he mouthed an amused 'sorry' to Hermione before situating himself again. This time, his posture was more alert, telling Hermione that he was awaiting a response.

Hermione frowned, but found an answer that didn't conflict with her background story.

"Does it really matter?" Sophie looked affronted and Tom folded his arms, not in anger but in silent contemplation. "It's all just blood. When it comes down to it, it's really all the same, isn't it?" Sophie rolled her eyes and gave a huge sigh, obviously hoping to bring Tom's attention back onto herself. When it didn't work, she gave another sigh of exasperation and hopped off the desk.

"Betty, Elsie, come over here. I want you to meet someone." Sophie called out to her friends, sending Hermione a smirk. Sophie's eyes had a malicious gleam to them, not unlike that she had seen in the eyes of her ex-nemesis Draco Malfoy.

The two girls immediately strode over at Sophie's command. Both girls were attractive, though neither on the scale as their leader. Elsie had thick hair separated into two large, long braids that fell to her waist from over her shoulders. She had very strong, sharp features, evidence of her nationality. Betty was the very opposite, sporting a smaller, more slender frame. She had short, page cut brown hair with bangs so long they nearly covered her eyes.

"Hey, Tom!" Betty chirped, giving him the silliest curtsy Hermione had ever seen. Elsie just nodded.

"Is this her, then?" Betty asked rather rudely, folding her arms and sizing Hermione up from her sitting position. Hermione was getting tired of the witch brigade inquisition.

"If you mean the new girl, it couldn't possibly be me. I'm the only seventh year that you've never seen or met before, here and now talking with you. It must be someone else." Hermione suggested to the girl. Tom chuckled. Sophie huffed. Hermione could see Elsie hiding a smile. Poor vapid Betty just looked confused.

"Yes! I am 'the new girl'! But please, call me Hermione, or at the very least, Levana." Hermione exclaimed agitatedly. She stood up from her chair gracefully and moved over to Betty and Elsie. Hermione discovered, to her delight, that she was taller than both Sophie and Betty, and was approximately the same height as Elsie. She offered Betty her customary handshake, but Betty merely started at it, arms still crossed. Elsie, however, took her hand and gave it a hearty shake.

"My name is Elsie Granger, Hermione. I'm also in Ravenclaw." Elsie's voice was heavy with a German accent, despite the fact she must have lived in Britain for at least seven years. "I am sorry I ignored you last night, I was having quite the tiring day, yet all the same it was quite callow of me." Hermione couldn't have cared less now; at least Elsie had the decency to apologize. She gave the German girl a sincere smile, deciding to give a friendship with this one a try. Hermione wanted nothing to do with the other two. Judging by the looks they were giving her right now, the feeling was mutual.

Sophie grabbed Elsie's arm away from Hermione and linked it with her own. Betty was already on her other side. The blonde gave Hermione one last scathing look before flashing Tom a dazzling smile.

"Well, the bell will ring any minute now, so if you don't mind, I'd like to say goodbye to my girls." Sophie gave Tom a little curtsey between her schoolmates before swinging them around, the three of them cutting a swath through all the other students.

"Downright charming that lot is, wouldn't you agree, Hermione?" Tom crooned, watching Hermione sink back into her chair with a deep sigh.

"As charming as a horde of dragonesses in heat can be, Tom." Hermione groused. "Though, that Elsie wasn't so bad. What's wrong with her?"

"The company she keeps, for one. And that was just the good side of Granger that you saw today. She's as two-faced as they come, Hermione. Don't forget that." _Of course not, Tom Riddle. After all, I have absolutely no reason to mistrust you. _

Hermione was grateful when the bell rang not a minute later. At least half of the room's occupants exited, and the rest took their seats. Hermione was surprised at how well everyone seemed to be getting along with each other; apparently there was a lot less rancor between the Slytherin's and Ravenclaws than the former and the Gryffindors.

"Welcome, students, to your very last year of Defense Against the Dark Arts." Came a male voice from seemingly nowhere, causing the class to turn about in their seats, looking from its origin. Everyone but Tom Riddle, that is, who sat in perfect contentment, Hermione nudged him.

"Where's his voice coming from?" She whispered. Tom leaned towards her until he was a breath's distance from her ear. With a soft hand he tucked a loose curl behind her ear.

"He's hiding under an invisibility clock near the back if the room right now, deciding what student he should scare." He murmured. Hermione gave him an incredulous look. Tom just smiled. "Professor Worple does this every year, and though you'd think everyone would be on their toes by now, he manages to terrify someone nearly every time. It's quite amusing, really. I only time it hasn't worked was in my second year, when he tried the technique out on me." Tom gave a haughty laugh. "He's secretly resented me ever since, I'm sure."

Questioned answered, Hermione leaned away from Tom and sat back in her seat. The room was now silent say for a few whisperings. Hermione sat very still and concentrated on that area of the room

Tom was right. Hermione could feel the presence of a wizard back there. And he was moving closer. The Professor was now winding his way through the desks, though where exactly Hermione could not tell by instinct alone. So she sniffed the air.

That did the trick. The invisible figure she had concentrated on smelled of old robes and candles. He was very near now, only a desk away. Hermione slowly turned her head in tune with the Professor's movements, so that by the time he had stopped walking and stood beside her she was facing him.

Worple clapped before removing his invisibility clock, smiling brightly at Hermione as he did so. He, like his son, was rather short with glasses, and had a mess of straggly brown hair, almost looking like he had been electrocuted.

"Bravo, Miss! Bravo!" He had begun to clap again. "Did everybody see that? That was amazing!" Everyone in the class seemed to be in shock. It had been a few years since someone had thwarted the Professor. Hermione caught Elsie's eye from behind her, who gave her a congratulatory thumbs up. Tom looked vaguely impressed, and nodded his head in honest approval.

"Looks like we've got ourselves an Auror in training." He was still smiling with a crazed sort of excitement, and it was only now that Hermione remembered what Dippet had said about him. _Oh dear._

"Has everyone here met Miss Hermione Levana?" Worplequestioned the class. Only Benjamin, who looked to be blushing again, Elsie, and Tom answered yes. "Well, then, I'll just have to give you a formal introduction, won't I?" _No, no that won't be necessary. _

"Come on then Miss Levana! Stand up!" Hermione compiled, but very slowly and reluctantly. Once standing she gave Worple an awkward smile. He surprised her by putting a fatherly arm around her shoulder and marched her to the front of the room. Once there, he spun her around so she faced the entirety of the classroom, all of whom had their eyes locked upon her. Like last night at the great hall, a few whistled, which just stockpiled her embarrassment to a nearly unbearable amount.

"Go on, then." He told her expectantly. "I'm sure they're all curious to know you." Hermione sighed, evading eye contact with the few people she knew.

"Hello, everybody." She mumbled, playing with the sleeve of her robe. "My name is Hermione Levana, and I transferred here from home schooling." Hermione gave a shaky smile to Worple, and tilted her head towards her seat. He ignored her.

"Aren't you all excited? A Transfer student, you know it's been a score or two since Hogwarts has had one." Hermione made brief eye contact with Riddle, who graced her with a sickeningly annoying smile. _I'll smack that grin right off your face, Tom Riddle. _

"Miss Levana, you may return to your seat for now, but I do hope that you won't hesitate to volunteer in the future? This class has a lot to learn from you." He implored, that mad smile still plastered on his face. Hermione nodded timidly, never taking her eyes off that deranged smile of his.

"Excellent, my dear, Excellent!"Hermione traipsed back to her desk at high speed, avoiding eye contact with everyone and everything. A few of the students were laughing, some catcalled again. The vampire sat rigidly in her seat and stared at her hands, knowing full well that her debonair neighbor still had that blasted smirk on his face.

"Yes, yes, it's all very amusing." She snapped at him. "Best get it out of your system now before making a fool of yourself later."

"What, Hermione? I have nothing to get out of my system." Tom assured her, giving her an innocent smile.

The rest of the period went by without incident. Professor Worple seemed to be as just as enthusiastic about his class as he was with vampires, so Hermione had a hard time hating him for making her an exhibit. The class course for the year would focus mostly on strong defensive, healing, and to Hermione's surprise, offensive spells. 'These are dark times, very dark times. Grindelwald's only getting stronger, and you need to know how to protect yourselves.' Was what Worple had said somberly when he informed the class that there would be more than 'defense' this year. There would, of course, be a review of dark creatures and non-verbal spells for the N.E.W.T. examines.

Professor Worple was still going over the finer points of his course plan when the bell rang. All of the students were slow to leave, as the room's atmosphere made one a little sleepy.

"Miss Levana?" Worple called to her acrossthe chatter of the other students. "May I speak with you for a moment please?" He motioned for her to come over to him.

"Advanced Potions next?" Tom asked her as they made their way to the front of the room. Hermione nodded.

"I know the way to that class though." She informed him with a pleased expression. "Thank you for showing me the way to this one." Hermione felt odd, giving genuine thanks to Tom Riddle.

"Anytime, Hermione. I'll save you a seat." He gave her a dashing wink before leaving her with Worple, meeting up with another Slytherin boy at the door. Elsie looked to be waiting for her, but Hermione motioned for her to leave, gesturing towards the professor. Worple waited for everyone to leave before speaking.

"Miss Levana, I don't know where to start." He had lost his maniacal smile and eccentric air, and had replaced it with a much more mellow spirit. "I don't know how I can possibly express my condolences over the loss of your family." Hermione's dipped her head sullenly in thanks.

"I really can't imagine how horrible it must have been. Waking up as a vampire, feeling that vengeance and bloodlust, and all of that grief. You are a very brave young woman, Miss Levana, and strong. Not just any fledgling vampire could take down her creators." Worple placed his hand on her shoulder and looked into her blank eyes.

"If you ever need to talk to anyone about it, you can always come to me." Hermione nodded again, though she had no intention of going to him. "And I'm not just talking about what happened, I'm also talking about your vampirism. While I happen to know quite a bit about it, I have an acquaintance I think you'd like to meet." That got Hermione's attention.

"Who?" She said wearily. Acting depressed wasn't terribly hard to do. All she had to do was remember…

"His name is Sanguini, and he has been a vampire for nearly a century. Sanguini is a very intelligent, apt vampire who could help you ease into the transition." _Sanguini…he's the vampire in my book. And at Slughorn's party, he was there. I can't rememeber if I met him or not, I was a little distracted at the time. All I can remember was that Eldred Worple was there. Bloody idiot._

"I would love to meet him, Professor." Hermione smiled at Worple, who returned it with a bright grin of his own.

"Good, because I've already told him about you." Worple's smile was back. "He seems very interested in meeting you. We'll have to arrange a date." He looked at his watch.

"I'm afraid that you're going to be a bit late for your next class, just tell your teacher to talk to me about it if they give you a hard time." Worple waved goodbye to her before throwing his invisibilty clock back over himself, and sneaking to the back of the room.

"Goodbye, sir." Hermione said, snorting a little at the Professor's erratic behavior.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Like Worple had predicted, Hermione was indeed late to Potions. She came bursting into the room typical of her fashion, and began to apologize profusely to the Professor.

"I am so sorry, Professor, I was in Defense Against the Dark Arts and-"

"My dear! Calm down! It's quite all right! Tom explained everything to me."

The understanding sound of Slughorn's voice made Hermione relax immediately. In the back of her mind, Potions always equated to Snape, even though he hadn't even taught her class last year. Slughorn was no longer bald, instead he had a fine head of Straw colored hair. Apart form hair color and a lack of wrinkles, Horace Slughorn looked no different. The Potion's professor gave a hearty chuckle and smiled at Hermione.

"Better now?" Hermione gave him a nod, and began to search the room. She found Tom Riddle sitting by the same Slytherin she had seen him leave with, along with a few other students that filled up the table. Hermione had almost forgotten that Tom Riddle was the most popular boy in the school. Looking around, Hermione could see no empty seats, since this class contained all the Seventh years in advanced potions.

Hermione sniffed. That meant Sophie was here. Sure enough, she was sitting across from Tom, her blonde hair shining in the torchlight. Elsie was sitting near her as well, but it seemed Betty hadn't made the cut to get in the class.

"Uh, sir?" Hermione asked shyly. Slughorn looked enchanted by her bashfulness.

"Yes, my dear?" He replied friendly. "What can I help you with?"

"There's nowhere for me to sit…"

"Ah! I think our young Mr. Riddle saved you a seat." Slughorn winked, and stage whispered to her. "He had to fight off all the rest of the girls to keep that seat, but I can see why now." Hermione smiled in thanks, and rushed to the back of the room, where Tom had indeed had his arm draped across an empty seat. Hermione gratefully took the seat, muttering a quick 'thanks' to Tom.

"I did say I would save you a seat, didn't I?" Tom said slyly, not removing his arm from the neck of the chair. "I nearly had to hex Sophie to make sure you got this seat."

"I wish you would have." Hermione quipped. "But then again, I would have missed it, so perhaps it's best that way." She didn't look very convinced by her words, and neither did Tom.

"Getting back to what we were discussing before Miss Levana's grand entrance-"

Slughorn smiled encouragingly at Hermione, showing that he was amused, rather than irritated. "As you're about to find a partner to brew it with, can anyone tell me the main ingredients required to brew a decent Draught of Living Death potion?"

Several people raised their hands, among them Hermione, Tom and Elsie, but they were all beaten by a scrawny looking girl sitting at the opposite side of the room, who's hand had shot up faster than a snitch.

"Miss Eruditon? Please enlighten us." The Potion's teacher said jovially to the girl who had raised her hand so fast.

"That would be Asphodel, Sopophorus Beans, Valerian Roots, and Wormwood." The skinny girl receited, folding her hands on her desk primly.

"Correct! 10 points to Hufflepuff, Miss Erudition." Slughorn beamed proudly at girl.

"It's not like sweet Rosie has anything better to do but read her textbooks over the summer, they're the only things that can stand to look at her." Sophie whispered cruelly to the table, ilicinting a few laughs from their table. Elsie gave Sophie a quick smile before looking away with a slightly repulsed face. Tom just acted like he didn't hear anything. No one bothered to come to the defense of the scraggly looking girl.

Hermione grinded her teeth together and flexed her fingers.Though the Erudition girl hadn't heard what Sophie had said, Hermione knew that she must have in the past. Hermione knew, because she had been in this exact same position her entire time at Hogwarts. This made Hermione more infuriated with Sophie than she had been at that rude Greengrass boy.

"Did you ever think-"Hermione bristled, drawing in Tom, Sophie, and Elsie's, attention, "that maybe she prefers is that way? Books, the normal ones anyways, never argue with you. You can escape to a whole new world; let yourself get lost in wonderful fantasies. And let's face it, "Hermione made eye contact with Sophie, "there are some things in this world that wouldn't be missed."

Hermione flipped her hair over her shoulder much like Sophie had to her earlier, and leaned back in her chair, so pleased with herself that she didn't even care that Tom Riddle's arm was nearly around her shoulders. The boy in question was staring at her with a strange expression on his face.

"Yes, Tom? What is it? " The sound of her voice brought Tom back to the now. He shook his head slowly, almost admiringly, but when he looked back up at her his old smirk was back in place.

"Nothing. Care to partner up?" Truthfully, no, as much as she _loved _the boy sitting next to her, she always had preferred to work alone when it came to schoolwork. But, Slughorn had implied that he expected them to work in pairs…

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Tom Riddle turned out to be the most talented potion's brewer that Hermione had ever met, his prowess exceeding that even that of Snape's. By the end of the period they, along with the Rosie girl and her partner, had the only lilac colored potions. Slughorn, delighted to have two perfect potions, gave all four students 20 points to their respective houses.

Hermione was struck with a sudden idea. Looking about and seeing that Tom was putting their items away, Hermione reached inside her robes, and pulled out her empty ebony flask. She filled it to the brim, wanting to take as much potion as she could. Satisfied that this would keep Elsie and her other roommate asleep that night before she could brew more, Hermione hurriedly put it back into her robes and performed _Evanesco_ on their remaining potion.

"Excellent job today, Miss Levana." She jumped at Slughorn's sudden presence, which just made him give another deep chuckle. Hermione decided that all the Professors had banned together in attempt to see who would embarrass her the most.

"You and Tom make a lovely pair; you know. I'd be pleased to see that kind of partnership more often." _It was one potion…_ "As a matter of fact, I'm having a little get together here next week, and the two of you should come together." Hermione smiled, though inwardly cringed. The last thing she needed was for Slughorn to play matchmaker…

"Sounds lovely, Professor." Slughorn patted her on the shoulder before going over to talk to Rosie. Hermione assumed he was giving her the same invitation.

"I was wondering how long it was going to be before he invited you to the Slug club." Tom began, having returned from the supply cabinet. "I half-expected him to give you one the moment you stepped foot in this class." With a wave of his wand he summoned his book bag, slinging it around his shoulder in anticipation of the bell.

"What exactly is the 'Slug Club?" Hermione asked, knowing Tom would be curious if she did not ask.

"It's a group of students who Slughorn feels have the strong potential to succeed, have powerful connections in the Ministry, or are remarkable in some way or another." Tom conveyed a look of great satisfaction.

"I was at this for school for a mere day when he first invited me." Hermione let Tom's boast go without remark, as the last time she had dealt with Slughorn the same thing had happened to her. _He really does have a knack for picking them, doesn't he?_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

At last, the day was over.

The majority of her classes passed in the same manner as her first two. Tom would walk with her to their classes and flirt with her throughout them. If she hadn't known any better, Hermione would have thought he might have genuinely liked her. But know better she did.

Slipping the Draught of Living Death into Myra's, her other roommate, and Elsie's pumpkin juice had been far easier than she had anticipated. All she did was sit across them at the evening meal and point her wand under the table, mutter a quick spell, which promptly sent them both running as fast as they could to the nearest lavatory. No one noticed her slip the potion in their goblets, as it merely looked like she was reaching across the table for a treacle tart.

The girls had become drowsy after the first sip, after two both were yawning; the third left them barely awake. Claiming that they were going to turn in early, both the girls left the table halfway through the feast, nearly tripping over nothing several times. Hermione helped walk them back to their dormitory and made sure that they didn't faint before they got into their beds. Since no one else was in their dormitory, no one saw her leave it. Nothing saw her walk, almost casually, up to the Seventh floor. Nothing saw her dim the torches, and pace the hallway three times, before revealing a hidden door in the wall. Nothing saw her enter this door, which disappeared the moment she clicked it shut.

Nothing, that is, but a pair of smoldering green eyes, the light of dying torches making them seem almost red in the night light.


End file.
